


Blackbird

by NotUnusual



Series: Blackbird [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotUnusual/pseuds/NotUnusual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine's parents move during Blaine's senior year, forcing him to attend a new school where he doesn't know anyone. It wouldn't be so bad, except he's being targeted by the school bully; Kurt Hummel. Blaine discovers that the best way to combat Kurt is to make friends with him, but can they actually get along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wanted to write a "badboy" Kurt story, and this is what happened. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas Megan, Tricia, and Jess. You girls are the best!
> 
> UPDATE: So, I accidentally messed up and listed this as a series because it had chapters and I was unfamiliar with AO3. This isn't a series, and it's finished at chapter 13. I'm sorry for any confusion!

Blaine joins the crowd walking through the front doors of McKinley High School. He steps inside, taking in the fluorescent lights, the linoleum; immediately aware of how very  _unlike_  Dalton it is. He doesn't mean to compare, at least not unfairly, but everything is just so jarringly  _different_. Nothing about McKinley is handsome or homey. People call out to each other, lockers slam, people run by, and everyone is wearing whatever they like, streaming along in a sea of color.  It isn't that Blaine has a problem with no dress code, but in a way the uniform had been a comfort. It made him feel safe, like he belonged.  Now, in his Lacoste striped shirt, slacks, and Oxfords, he only feels like he sticks out. Blaine feels like a fish out a water, a traveler in a foreign land. After three years, Dalton had almost been like a second home.  
  
Blaine sucks in a breath, pushes those thoughts away. He mentally chides himself for being melodramatic and crosses the lobby. His first class is supposed to be Calc, but next to 'Calculus with Mr. Thompson' on his schedule is 'N/A'. He glances toward the office, but there is a huge crowd, the line curling outside the doors. Maybe they're all in Mr. Thompson's class, too.  
  
Unsure of what to do, Blaine glances around and notices a boy standing next to a small group of people. He has light brown hair and a fair complexion, wearing non-descript clothes that somehow seem ill-fitting. He’s staring ahead at nothing, looking like he'd rather be anywhere  _but_  this hallway. Blaine feels a twinge of commiseration, and without really thinking about it, he changes direction and approaches the boy.  
  
"Excuse me," Blaine says, looking up through his lashes, back to his schedule, suddenly shy. "I'm new, and I was wondering if you know where Mr. Thompson's class is? My schedule says--"  
  
"Pro-tip, new kid," the boy says, shifting until he isn't leaning against the wall any longer. His eyes are cool and regard Blaine with contempt. Blaine hadn't expected such a biting reaction, and he stares at the boy like a deer caught in headlights. The boy has the attention of the others in the group now as well, and they don't exactly look friendly, either. "Next time, ask someone who cares."  
  
Before Blaine can even open his mouth to reply, he's hit in the face with a wall of liquid ice. He gasps, shocked by the sudden  _cold_.  
  
"Welcome to McKinley!" the boy says, followed by laughter and 'good job, Hummel!' and 'did you see his  _face_?' as the group leaves. Not that Blaine can see them, whatever he's been splashed with stings his eyes, drips down his neck and into his shirt. He just stands there, stupidly.  
  
"Oh, here-- don't open your eyes, it'll only make it worse," comes a female voice, followed by soft fabric swiping gently at each of his clenched eyelids. "Go on, then, it should be safe."  
  
Blaine hesitantly opens his eyes, blinking rapidly until he's sure it doesn't hurt. A short brunette stands in front of him, her gaze showing a little worry, but mostly determination. "What just happened?" he asks, licking his lips.  
  
"Kurt Hummel just happened," the girl sighs. A look of disapproval. "You're going to make me late for English." She takes his hand and leads him to the girl's bathroom.  
  
"Um..."  
  
"Oh, no one will care, everyone's on their way to class." She drags a chair over to one of the sinks. "Sit."  
  
Blaine sits obediently, and the girl directs him, tilts his head back against the edge of the sink. She wets the towel she must have used to clean his eyes with and begins to gently wipe away the cold syrup-- a slushie? Blaine shivers.  
  
"You came prepared," he says.  
  
"I also have an extra set of clothes in my locker." She wrings out the towel and wets it again. "Unfortunately for you it includes a skirt. So, what's your name?"  
  
"Blaine Anderson."  
  
"I'm Rachel Berry.  _That_ was Kurt Hummel and his gang," she says, somehow making it all sound very dramatic. "Noah Puckerman, or Puck, David Karofsky, Azimio Adams. They're bullies, and it's best to just avoid them. Their favorite pastime is throwing slushies at those of us who _fail_  to be as  _popular_  and  _nasty_ as they are."  
  
Rachel turns on the faucet and cups her hands, tipping water over his hair. Blaine closes his eyes. His hair, so carefully gelled this morning, is going to be a mess.  
  
"I can't believe--  _already_. I haven't even been to a  _class_ yet," he says. "This is beyond humiliating."  
  
"You still have a chance. Will you be trying out for football?" Rachel asks.  
  
"No..."  
  
"Basketball? Any sport?"  
  
"I'm more interested in choir, or theater."  
  
There's a pause and then Rachel has him by the shoulders. She pulls him up, looking at him with a crazy sort of intensity. "You sing?"  
  
"Um, yeah. I was in my old school's acapella group," he begins to say, blushing.  
  
Rachel squeals. "Blaine Anderson, you are going to join the  _coolest_  club in all of McKinley!"  
  
"...What?"  
  
"Glee!"  
  

 

\----

   
Blaine misses homeroom entirely and ends up getting to his Calculus class midway through. There's some snickering, most likely due to his damp, purple-stained shirt, but that’s the extent of it.  
  
No one says anything as the morning goes by, though he does get some knowing looks. He supposes he doesn't mind, then, flying under the radar. Better to be ignored than outright bullied. Still, it is a dramatic change from Dalton, where he had been well and widely liked. It seems as though the slushie has driven courage and every bit of charisma from him, and instead of trying to make friends, he concentrates on finding his classes and doing his work.  
  
Lunchtime rolls around. Blaine dreads the thought of sitting alone, but as soon as he leaves the lunch line Rachel is calling his name and waving enthusiastically. She points to where she's sitting with a group of other kids. He smiles brightly, relieved to know someone, and makes his way across the crowded room.  
  
And trips.  
  
And falls.  
  
His lunch tray skitters on ahead of him. It isn't an accident, someone  _tripped_  him, and the sudden burst of laughter that follows confirms it. Blaine scowls and pulls himself up, looking into the laughing face of Kurt Hummel.  
  
"What the hell is your  _problem_?" Blaine asks, knowing his own face is turning red.  
  
"You're just so dorky and small, it's like you're asking for it," Kurt laughs.  
  
Blaine stands. "You aren't much bigger."  
  
Kurt's smile evaporates, but before he can reply, the guy in the football jacket next to him leans forward. "I am."  
  
Blaine glares at him, eliciting a growl from the jock. The jock starts to get up.  
  
"Move along, homo, if you know what's good for you."  
  
"Karofsky." It’s Kurt who interjects. His expression is one of calm fury.  
  
"What?" the jock-- Karofsky says, looking at Kurt. He sits back down at least.  
  
"You want to get suspended on your first day?" Kurt is saying as Blaine quickly gathers his lunch off the floor. The guy is bigger than him, there is a whole table of them, and Blaine doesn't actually want to get his ass kicked.  
  
He walks over to Rachel's table, maintaining some semblance of dignity by not running, heart pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. He gives the table a tentative look, wondering if they'll even still let him sit by them after that display of awkward. The entire table is staring at him, eyes wide, several mouths parted. but silent.  
  
"You stood up to him," a dark haired girl says, almost in awe.  
  
"Well-- I...not really," Blaine says, embarrassed.  
  
"You kind of did!" Rachel says.  
  
"That was pretty awesome." There’s agreement around the table, and Blaine smiles.  
  
"Fellow glee club members--"  
  
"Rachel, this is  _not_ a meeting," a different girl in bright clothes interrupts.  
  
Rachel huffs. "Well most of us are here."  
  
The girl rolls her eyes.  
  
" _Any_ way, this is the one I was telling you about. Blaine Anderson, our newest member!" Rachel announces.  
  
There is cheering, actual  _cheering_ , and introductions are made.  
  
Blaine is good with names, and remembers everyone’s as soon as they tell him. Besides, they're all so distinct, there’s no way he could forget. At Dalton the boys had blended together. The uniforms, the preppy hair-cuts, all of them clean and smart and well-mannered. Here, Blaine can already tell that along with Rachel, Mercedes is just as straight-forward and opinionated. Tina is reserved, but bright and quick to laugh. Quinn, too, is more subdued, sitting close to Finn, who must be her boyfriend from the way she looks at him. Artie is by far the funniest, his and Mike’s impressions of a teacher make Blaine laugh even if he has no clue who the teacher is.  
  
Blaine tries to be charming, and can't help but wonder how they see  _him_.  
  

 

\----

   
The rest of the day goes by alright. As it turns out, Kurt and some of the others from Kurt's group are in a handful of his classes. He makes sure to sit far away from all of them; better to be safe than sorry.  
  
Rachel informs him that glee club meets Tuesdays and Thursdays after school (and sometimes Mondays or Wednesdays when it’s getting close to competitions), and that anyone can join (unlike the Warblers!),  _but_ , Mr. Schue will probably want to hear him sing, so he should prepare something.  
  
She has a list of suggestions. Like, on hand.  
  

 

\----

   
Blaine's excited about his glee club audition. Nervous, but excited. He finds himself humming the song he’s chosen under his breath during homeroom the next day. He's ended up in the same homeroom as Rachel, Finn, Artie, Mike and Quinn. Finn and Quinn are talking quietly, heads tipped toward each other, desks pushed close. Rachel is busy watching them with a poorly hidden frown. Mike is napping, Artie is playing his DS, and...  
  
Blaine looks up as Kurt walks into the room.  
  
If Kurt notices him, he can't tell. Blaine rolls his eyes, putting Kurt out of mind, and goes back to doodling in his notebook, silently mouthing lyrics.  
  
 _Tap, tap, tap._  
  
Blaine tries to ignore the foot tapping on the back bar of his desk, a feat that eventually proves impossible. He turns his head to ask the person, politely, to stop.  
  
And locks eyes with Kurt Hummel.  
  
Blaine's teeth clench. "Do you  _mind_?"  
  
Kurt raises an eyebrow in disdain. "Do you have a death wish?"  
  
Blaine doesn't know what's come over him. He is not a confrontational person by any means. There’s just something about Kurt Hummel that  _gets_  to him. Blaine makes a show of looking around the room. "Funny, I don't see any of your two hundred pound friends here to back you up."  
  
"I don't need them," Kurt says, scowling.  
  
"Really? Because I think you do. You look about as tough as a puppy," Blaine says with a fake smile.  
  
Kurt stands. He shoves Blaine's books off his desk, hovering over him, glaring. "Try me."  
  
"Boys!" Mr. Abela is looking sternly at them from his desk. "Is there a problem?"  
  
"No problem," Blaine says, staring at Kurt before turning to pick his books up. Rachel helps, practically beaming at him. Kurt sinks wordlessly back into his seat, puts some earbuds in, and proceeds to ignore him.  
  
Blaine can’t help but wonder what a jerk like Kurt listens to, because how can assholes appreciate music?  
  
Blaine eventually decides it’s probably death metal. Or maybe country, because country's the worst. Only when the bell rings, after his mind is made up, does he realize he spent the entirety of homeroom trying to figure out Kurt Hummel’s hypothetical playlist.  
  
 _Get a grip_ , Blaine tells himself, watching Kurt leave the room.

 

\----

   
Blaine stands before the New Directions. Eleven pairs of eyes are on him, one in particular a little unsettling.  
  
("Santana can be overbearing, but she's okay," Rachel had assured him. "Sometimes she hangs around Kurt's gang because she has an on and off again thing with Puck, but there's kind of a truce when she's here.")  
  
"Whenever you're ready, Blaine," Mr. Schuester says. "No pressure."  
  
Blaine nods and tries to smile. He takes a seat at the piano, cracking his knuckles before lowering his hands to hover above the keys.  He takes a deep breath and begins to play.  
  
" _Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends, so take it easy on me_..."  
  
It feels good to sing in front of a group again. In fact, it feels great. If only the New Directions were backing him up, it would be perfect. Not that he expects to be the new soloist, it’s just always more fun to sing with people than alone.  
  
Blaine finishes, and before he can say a word, Rachel bursts out, "I remember you now!"  
  
"I do, too," says Mercedes.  
  
"The boys in the cute uniforms," comes Brittany's dreamy voice.  
  
"You were the lead for the Dalton Academy Warblers last year," Rachel says, smug.  
  
"You look different in normal clothes."  
  
" _Hotter_ , you mean."  
  
"Shut up, Santana."  
  
"You were tough competition!"  
  
"How come you transferred?"  
  
The whole room is talking, and Blaine isn't sure who to reply to first.  
  
"Okay, guys," Mr. Schuester interjects. "Blaine, good job. We're lucky to have you."  
  
Mr. Schuester pats him on the back and sends him toward the chairs for their vocal warm-ups. Rachel smiles at him and makes room in the row next to her.  
  

 

\----

   
It doesn't take long for Blaine to figure out that New Directions is  _not_  the coolest club in school. In fact, they seem to be the most  _un_ popular, disliked group in all of McKinley. It’s such a stark contrast from the Warblers that Blaine that doesn’t know what to make of it at first.  
  
He certainly isn’t prepared for another slushie to the face, but before the first week is over he gets just that, courtesy of Kurt Hummel. Blaine isn’t the only one, either. One day during the transition time between third and forth period, he’s in the bathroom helping poor Artie clean blue slushie from his glasses, and Artie tells him that’s just the way it is for the glee club. Blaine protests, telling him what Rachel had said. Artie rolls his eyes. “In her world, maybe."  
  
Kurt in particular seems to go out of his way to try and annoy Blaine in every class they share. Childish things, like tapping his foot against Blaine's desk, spitballs to the back of his head, taunting him, "accidentally" knocking Blaine’s books from his desk as he goes by.  
  
On the Friday of Blaine’s second week, he's just about had enough.  
  
Rachel invited him over to practice, but Blaine is in such a foul mood that he finds he can't concentrate.  
  
"Blaine. Blaine?"  
  
Blaine realizes belatedly that Rachel has stopped singing.  
  
"Sorry, Rachel...uh, you sounded great," he says.  
  
Rachel huffs. "I sang the same lyric three times. You didn't even notice! Blaine, we'll never be ready for Sectionals if we don't get this right!"  
  
Blaine sighs. "I know. I just...had a crappy day. I guess I'm having a hard time shaking it."  
  
Rachel's stern expression melts to sympathy. "What happened?" She smiles, looking hopeful. "You're wearing the same clothes you came to school in, and they're dry. That's a good sign."  
  
"It's just. Kurt. He's such a  _jerk_. And he'd be nothing on his own, so it sucks twice as bad because I'm getting picked on by a  _lackey_."  
  
Rachel frowns. "I don't know about that. It is a little weird, though. Kurt isn't usually the one who starts things. He sure does seem to like picking on you, though."  
  
"Lucky me.”  
  
"You know, he lives down the street from me."  
  
Blaine blinks. "Right here?"  
  
"Four houses down."  
  
"That must be awkward," he says.  
  
Rachel shrugs a shoulder. "I used to think it would be a problem. I expected after-school torment, nasty looks if we happened to pass each other. But I hardly ever see him. Not a peep, no trouble at all."  
  
Blaine makes a non-committal noise, thinking it over. Kurt probably doesn’t want to get in trouble with his parents is all. Bullies are really just cowards themselves, or so he’s been told.  
  
"Anyway, enough about  _Kurt Hummel_ ," Rachel says. "We need to practice!"  
  
Blaine gives Rachel a look of long-suffering, and then cracks a tiny smile. "You're even worse than I am."  
  
"No one has the drive I do," she says in a chipper voice.  
  
"Mm...so, is this song about anyone in particular?" Blaine asks, holding up the sheet music.  _Adele, Chasing Pavements_. He has his suspicions.  
  
Rachel's expression dims and Blaine regrets asking. "Sorry, it's none of my business," he starts to say.  
  
"It's Finn," she murmurs. "I'm sure you've noticed he's dating the most beautiful girl in school--"  
  
Blaine feigns surprise. "You two are dating?"  
  
" _Blaine_." There is a hint of a smile, though, and Blaine feels a little less guilty for bringing the whole thing up.  
  
"You can tell me," he says. "I won't say anything."  
  
"Quinn Fabray, last year's Junior Prom Queen. They're...you know.  _That_  couple." She won't meet his eyes, tracing a pattern into her bedspread. "We dated for awhile in the beginning of last year, but...it didn't hold. I just don't compare to her."  
  
"In what way?" he challenges.  
  
"In  _all_ ways. Popularity. Looks. Especially looks. Everything except talent." Her chin lifts just so when she says it.  
  
"Rachel." Blaine's voice goes soft. "You're beautiful. Finn's an idiot if he let you go."  
  
He's just trying to be a good friend. It's only after the words are out of his mouth and he sees the expression on her face that he realizes how he must sound. He hurries to say something more, not wanting to give the impression that he's hitting on her.  
  
"--I'll take you to Dalton right now. All the guys would fight over you. In fact, if it wasn't such a long distance, there's a guy I know who you'd be perfect for." Of course, all attempts at not being awkward only make things ten times  _more_  awkward.  
  
Rachel doesn't seem to notice, and is smiling, cheeks slightly pink. "Blaine, are you gay?"  
  
The question takes Blaine by surprise, and he gapes a moment. "What? No. I'm not hitting on you, though! I mean. Not that you aren't the sort of girl I'd hit on. Just, we're friends, so I'm not like I'm...trying anything, and. We should practice."  
  
Rachel's head tilts to the side. " _Blaine_. Are you sure?"  
  
"That I'm not  _gay_? I think I'd know." Does he come off as gay? Is it his shoes? But, in the words of Katy Perry, he kissed a girl and he liked it…once. It didn't repulse him, anyway. He'd know if he was into guys, wouldn't he?  
  
Blaine is starting to get a headache.  
  
Rachel just smiles to herself for a long moment. Too long. Blaine wonders what she's thinking.  
  
"Okay," Rachel finally says. "Let's practice. And this time, pay attention!"  
  
"Yes ma'am," Blaine says, relieved at the subject change.

 

\----

   
The following Monday starts terribly.  
  
Blaine has taken too long during gym class (more like too long showering afterwards) and is rushing to his next class, hair dripping, shirt clinging uncomfortably to his body in places where he's still damp. He's so focused on dodging stragglers and hoping he doesn’t look like a complete mess, that he takes a corner too fast and barrels right into someone, sending them both tumbling to the floor.  
  
The odds are not in Blaine's favor as he finds himself sprawled on top of  _Kurt_ of all people. Kurt has cushioned his fall – mostly – his body slim, but soft. Definitely nicer than linoleum, anyway.  
  
Except for the fact that it’s  _Kurt Hummel_.  
  
Before either of them can say a word, before it really even registers what just happened, there's a burst of laughter around them.  
  
"Looks like you got yourself a boyfriend, Kurt!"  
  
"And he tops!"  
  
Blaine looks up in shock that it's  _Kurt_  who's receiving the brunt of the jokes, and watches Karofsky and Puck high-fiving each other, laughing. His gaze returns to Kurt, whose face is turning red, the meanest expression Blaine has ever seen forming right before his eyes.  
  
"Get off me," Kurt says, so low Blaine isn't sure for a second that he's said anything at all.  
  
"I– " Blaine scrambles up and Kurt grabs his shirt, shoving him away. Blaine stumbles backwards, but thankfully doesn't fall.  
  
"If you insult me like that again, Karofsky," Kurt continues, chin tilted up, an expression of superiority settling in on his face. "I won't take you to prom like you've been asking, and you'll have no use for that floral taffeta dress your mother bought you."  
  
Karofsky colors and Puck cracks up.  
  
"Shut up,  _Noah!_ " Karofsky snaps, punching Puck in the shoulder.  
  
"Asshole!" Puck hits him back and they begin to scuffle.

Blaine sees his opportunity and escapes down the hallway, glancing back to find Kurt watching after him. His heart is pounding, and he covers the place where Kurt grabbed his shirt with his hand. It isn't like he's scared, but his adrenaline has kicked in and he feels...he doesn't know. Strange.


	2. Chapter 2

Stranger still is that after their hallway incident, Kurt leaves Blaine more or less alone. He isn't nice, exactly, but he doesn't seem to go out of his way to bother Blaine in class. Doesn't look at him, barely even acknowledges his existence.  
  
It's Rachel who gets slushied on Wednesday, and this time Blaine helps clean her up in the bathroom.  
  
Things are looking up. Well, for him, at least. For his clothes at the very best.  
  
It’s Mrs. McCrea, his fifth period History teacher, who ends his stroke of good luck.  
  
"Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel."  
  
Two names, harmlessly stated side by side.  
  
 _This is not happening_ , Blaine thinks.  
  
Mrs. McCrea is pairing them up for a huge assignment, and of all the people in the entire classroom _this_  is who Blaine gets partnered with. Blaine looks over at Kurt, but Kurt is looking down at his textbook in disinterest.  
  
After Mrs. McCrea is finished reading names, everyone starts getting up to join their partners. Kurt, the jackass, stays put like he isn’t even a part of the class. Blaine scowls and reluctantly goes over to join him, giving a small wave of goodbye to Mercedes.  
  
Blaine sits down next to Kurt, who rolls his eyes and says, "Failure is imminent."  
  
Blaine bristles. "You think the failure would be on  _my_  part? What do you have, a D average?"  
  
Kurt just snorts and stares straight ahead.  
  
Blaine tries to keep his mouth shut, but who the hell does Kurt think he is? "I've gone to private school my entire life. I learned this stuff two years ago," he hisses, "so no, as long as I don't leave the work to you, failure is not  _imminent_."  
  
Kurt's hand shoots up. "Mrs. McCrea, Blaine won't stop talking and I can't hear your instructions."  
  
Blaine blushes, embarrassed.  
  
"Blaine, there will be time to discuss your project after I explain it," the teacher says, and resumes her spiel.  
  
Blaine sinks lower in his seat. God hates him, that is the only explanation. Or it's bad karma. He's paying for the time he accidentally broke the vase in David's foyer and blamed the dog. Or maybe that one time he cheated at Monopoly, or put saran wrap over Wes's toilet seat...  
  
Blaine is thinking so hard about his miserable situation that he nearly misses the entire explanation of the project. Something about Abraham Lincoln and the debate over his views on American Indians.  
  
"So...I guess we can--"  
  
"Quiet," Kurt interjects, still not looking at him. He bends over his paper and begins furiously writing.  
  
O-kay. Blaine will just...read the chapter. He opens his book and begins to read, stealing a glance at Kurt every now and then, but Kurt seems intent on ignoring him.  Mrs. McCrea walks around the classroom, passing out the outline for their project. Kurt skims it but doesn’t say anything.  
  
At the end of class, Kurt slides one of the papers he's been working on over to Blaine. "You work on this, and I'll do the other half," he says.  
  
Blaine pauses, looking down at the paper Kurt gave him. Kurt has surprisingly nice handwriting, and the work does seem evenly divided.  
  
"I need to maintain a 4.0, or my dad'll kill me," Blaine admits, not trusting Kurt to follow through on his end. "I'll do the project, okay? Don't worry about it."  
  
Kurt snaps his book shut, clearly pissed off. "I'm not a _moron_."  
  
"Really? You could have fooled me, considering whose company you keep. They must have the combined IQ of 2. Yesterday in English Azimio asked the teacher what a particle was, and if it was 'one of those things that spins around an atom.'"  
  
"A particle is a function word that doesn't belong to one of the major parts of speech; and nothing spins around an atom," Kurt says, gathering his things and shoving them in his backpack. "And I can handle this project, so if you're done acting like a pretentious jerk-off--"  
  
" _Me_?  _I'm_  the jerk-off? That's rich, coming from you," Blaine says, feeling a sense of liberation at finally give a little back. "Did you, like...forget who you are? You're the biggest jerk-off in all of McKinley!"  
  
At this, a few of the other students look over.  
  
Kurt shoves Blaine's things off the table, sending books, pens, and papers flying. "You're damn right I am," he says, and stalks out of the classroom.  
  
"Kurt Hummel!" Mrs. McCrea calls after him. But he is already gone.

  
\----

  
The tension between Blaine and Kurt during History is palpable.  
  
They speak to each other as little as possible. Anything out of Kurt's mouth is a jibe, prompting Blaine to get his own digs in. The work is difficult to divide up at times, too many questions rely on previous answers, and communication between both boys can't be avoided.  
  
During their group work time on Friday, Blaine turns to ask Kurt something, only to find him sound asleep, cheek propped on the crook of his elbow. Blaine's first thought is: what can I do to get him back? Put something in his hair? Draw on his face? Hide his textbooks?  
  
Guilt cuts Blaine's thoughts short. He isn't this person. All the animosity between them is turning him into someone he doesn't want to be. Sure, good-natured pranks between friends is fun -- he's pulled many at Dalton and has been the recipient of even more. But he and Kurt aren't friends and his intentions are not in good spirits. He doesn't like Kurt, and he doesn't deserve all the crap Kurt pulls, but he doesn't have to resort to it in turn. He is better than that.  
  
After a long moment of indecision, Blaine touches his fingers to Kurt's arm. "Kurt," he whispers. "Wake up. You'll get in trouble."  
  
Kurt's eyes blink open. A look of confusion, then alarm. "Oh, thanks," he says, sounding groggy. He raises his head and looks at Blaine like he doesn't know who he is. Blaine sees the moment Kurt realizes what's happening, and turns away.  
  
"No problem," Blaine says, pretending to get back to work.  
  
Kurt probably regrets that thank you. He doesn't say anything at all.

 

 

\----

 

As it turns out, the way Kurt has divided their work  _is_  problematic. Blaine needs to write a short essay about Lincoln’s political reasons for abolishing slavery, but Kurt has taken that section of notes. Blaine supposes he can just look up the information himself, but he wants their work to be cohesive.  
  
The essay is due Monday, and Blaine doesn't have Kurt's number. He can't fail this assignment and isn't about to take the chance that Mrs. McCrea would give him an extension, not on such short notice. He contemplates finding Kurt on Monday morning and getting the notes from him then, but he can't guarantee having time in his classes to write the paper.  
  
This leaves one option; he'll have to go to Kurt's house. Rachel mentioned it's on her block, and with a quick phone call he has the address.  
  
Kurt's house looks nice from the outside. Brick, two level ranch, nice yard with a truck in the driveway. Blaine parks behind the truck, stomach turning from sudden nerves. He slowly makes his way up the walk. Maybe he should have parked at Rachel's house and walked over...  
  
"Can I help you?" says a voice to his right.  
  
Blaine nearly jumps in surprise - why is he so nervous? - and plasters a smile across his face. "Hi, I'm looking for, uh, Kurt Hummel? Does he live here?"  
  
The man has come from the backyard in a pair of dirty coveralls, flannel shirt, jeans, boots, worn baseball cap. He looks Blaine up and down in assessment. "Yeah. You a friend of his?"  
  
Blaine isn't sure how to answer that at first.  _No_  is on the tip of his tongue, but that would be awkward considering this is probably Kurt's dad.  
  
"Yeah. We're partners for a History project. I just need to get some notes from him. I'm Blaine. Anderson," he adds, and holds out his hand. He usually has better manners than this.  
  
The man doesn't reply with anything right away. "Better not shake, I just got back from work," he says, holding up two very dirty looking hands. "Nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm Burt, Kurt's father. He's upstairs if you wanna go up."  
  
Blaine lowers his hand. "Oh, thanks." He stands there, waiting for Burt to let him in.  
  
Burt cracks a small smile. "Go ahead, it's unlocked. I got a piece'a shit lawnmower I gotta try and fix before I go in. Kurt's probably upstairs in his room, just call out."  
  
"Okay, Mr. Hummel," Blaine says, returning the smile. "It was nice to meet you."  
  
"Sure. See ya, kid."  
  
Feeling suitably intimidated, as though Burt knows everything about him just from looking, Blaine quickly makes his way inside.  
  
He steps into the living room and looks around. It's nice. Well kept, fairly large. Blaine doesn't know what he expected, really. There's no sign of Kurt. Blaine peeks in the kitchen, calls Kurt's name to make sure he isn't on the lower level. No reply. Blaine feels like he's trespassing as he makes his way upstairs, taking each stair carefully as though they might break below him. Stupid thought, and he's nervous again.  
  
"Kurt?"  
  
There's still no reply, but Blaine can hear  _something_. It sounds like...singing?  
  
Blaine follows the sound and creeps over to the door it's coming from. He listens with his ear close, almost touching.  
  
"... _Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly..._ "  
  
Someone is singing, and it definitely isn't Paul McCartney. It's too soft and fragile. It’s beautiful.  
  
The voice is familiar, but there is no way. _No_ way. It has to be...does Kurt have a sister? Maybe a cousin. Blaine doesn't know, but whoever it is, he can't help but be a little entranced. Blaine stays nearly pressed to the door, listening to the song until it is over. There isn't a sound afterward beyond muted footsteps, and before Blaine can even think about what he's doing, his knuckles find the door and knock.  
  
"Yeah?" The door swings open suddenly, and Blaine's forgotten he's standing so close. He's practically nose to nose with Kurt Hummel. Not his sister. Of course it wasn't a sister, and Kurt is clearly expecting the person beyond the door to be his father. There's a distinct look of shock on Kurt's face, and just as fast as Kurt opened the door, he slams it shut.  
  
Blaine stands stock still for a moment.  
  
"Kurt?"  
  
The door opens slowly this time and Kurt slips out, closing it quietly behind him. Blaine can't tell if Kurt is embarrassed, angry, or both; his expression is cold and unreadable.  
  
"What are you doing at my house?"  
  
Blaine clears his throat. "I need your History notes. For the essay. Your dad let me in," he adds.  
  
Kurt glares at him, as if trying to decide if Blaine is being honest. "Fine. Wait right here. Do  _not_  move." With that, Kurt slips back into his room. In a glance Blaine sees a neatly made bed with a rich, red comforter and matching pillows, and that's it.  
  
Kurt returns a moment later and shoves the papers at Blaine. "Anything else?"  
  
There is something else. Not only does Kurt have a great voice, but he is the  _last_  person Blaine would imagine sitting around in his room singing a Beatles song. Kurt doesn't seem to enjoy anything. He's surly and mean and...he's a  _bully_.  
  
Blaine can't help himself, the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "No, but-- Kurt, was that you singing? You're  _really_  good."  
  
The sudden pink of Kurt's cheeks is unmistakable. He shifts, clearly uncomfortable. "That was a CD, moron. They play music?"  
  
"Kurt..."  
  
" _Blaine_. It's a CD."  
  
Blaine's teeth scrape along his lower lip, eyes on the other boy. "That was not McCartney. I'm not an idiot, I have that album. You don't have to be  _embarrassed_ , I think it's  _awesome_."  
  
Maybe Kurt is an asshole, and maybe Blaine kind of hates him, but he has a hard time being dishonest.  
  
Kurt's eyes dart beyond Blaine, his hand gripped tight to his bedroom doorknob. "Listen, it wasn't me, and you need to leave. I didn't ask you to come over, and I don't want you here," he says harshly, opening his bedroom door.  
  
"Kurt, I'm--"  
  
" _Goodbye_." The door slams shut behind him once more, and Blaine winces.  
  
Blaine says nothing, but waits a minute longer. Silence. Before Kurt has him forcibly removed from the house by his father, Blaine descends the stairs. If he takes his time, well, no one needs to know.  
  
Back home, Blaine reads over Kurt's work. It's perfect. Blaine has been under the impression that Kurt doesn't like school, doesn't try at school. He hadn't thought there was one refined or intellectual thing about Kurt Hummel. Today he's been proven wrong twice over, even if by accident.  
  
So, what else is Kurt hiding?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak a bit of French, so if any of you do and the French is off, apologies, but I have no way of knowing. A sweet girl on tumblr named Sabrina was kind enough to translate the phrases for me so I wouldn't have to resort to babelfish. :)

Their project gets an A.  
  
Blaine half expects Kurt to rub it in his face, but after the incident at Kurt's house, Kurt has barely said two words to him. The 'I told you so' never comes. He bets Kurt is thinking it, though.  
  
The A and the silent treatment only fuel the fire of Blaine's new-found and unwelcome obsession with Kurt Hummel. Not that he would  _ever_  admit it, but he does find himself watching Kurt. Like, all the time. It doesn't help that they have three classes, homeroom, and the same lunch period. Blaine makes an effort not to look at Kurt, not to think about Kurt, but it’s in vain. He watches for some chink in Kurt's armor, wondering what the other boy is thinking.  
  
It’s pathetic, stupid.  
  
Still, he can’t help himself. Blaine used to try to sit at the opposite side of the room as Kurt, he now makes it a point to sit behind or next to him.  
  
There are a few things Blaine starts to notice. One is the way Kurt carries himself, always with this demeanor of  _do not mess with me or I will cut you_. This is maybe not so terribly surprising, except that it isn’t projected with angry scowls or glares, but with his nose upturned and an expression of constant aloofness. Kurt has an air of superiority and judgment nearly every time he looks at someone. None of the others in Kurt’s group look at people this way. Mostly, they coast through their day with perpetual expressions of boredom and irritation. Kurt, though, looks like  _everyone_  is below him.  
  
Another thing that Blaine notices about Kurt is that along with carrying himself like the King of McKinley castle, he also always looks, well, kind of miserable. He  _never_  smiles. The closest he gets is a smirk, but in general his mouth is in a somber line, eyes cool and disregarding. Sometimes at lunch his friends will say something that makes him smile or laugh, but it doesn’t appear to be especially genuine to Blaine.  
  
Blaine has always heard that bullies  _bully_  to feel better about themselves. Maybe they aren’t educated, they may not have a good home life, they feel inferior, not as smart or good looking or well off as their peers. That’s what adults always say. But Blaine is almost positive Kurt does not feel inferior to one single person in all of McKinley, maybe even in all of Ohio.  
  
\----  
  
It’s nearly the end of the day, AP French class. Blaine does well in French, though of all his classes it’s probably the one he struggles in the most. If he had his way he wouldn't take it at all, but his mother insists that he know at least one other language because it will look good for college.  
  
But  _this_. This is exactly what is so bizarre about Kurt Hummel. He takes  _French_. And not just French, but  _advanced placement_ French.  
  
Granted, several weeks at McKinley have shown Blaine that even though a student is in an advanced class does not in fact mean they are advanced. He doesn’t think it’s like that for Kurt, but he has no idea how some of the other students got into this class in the first place. Blaine isn’t even sure some of them know how to spell their own names. Hell,  _Azimio_  is in this class. (Sitting next to Kurt, of course.)  
  
"Why is Mathilde unhappy with her life at the opening of the story?" asks Mrs. Zaranski.  
  
Mrs. Zaranski starts to discuss their reading assignment, a short story by Maupassant, and Blaine finds his concentration slipping away. He chews idly at his pen cap, unconsciously watching Kurt's back, the lines of his profile when he turns his head. Kurt’s expression reflects boredom and he seems to be pretending to doodle on his paper, but Blaine knows better. He is totally taking notes.  
  
God, why bother? Why play dumb when you aren't? Blaine glances at Azimio. Maybe Kurt wants to look as stupid and disenchanted as his friends so they won't tease him, like that incident in the hallway. But then, why hang out with them at all? Maybe they all grew up together, so Kurt feels obligated and they’re just a terrible influence. Maybe they're blackmailing him and he does all their homework for them. Yeah, Blaine bets that's it. They have serious dirt on the guy, something that would shock everyone and get him expelled--  
  
Blaine mentally shakes his head, because here he is, thinking about  _Kurt_  again.  
  
"Now, if you'll turn to page twenty of your text books, I'd like for you to work on some language comprehension questions," Mrs. Zaranski is saying. "Pair up with the person next to you and take turns asking and answering the questions. En français, s’il vous plaît."  
  
Blaine sits up a little and can't decide if it’s relief or disappointment he feels at not being partnered with Kurt.  
  
The guy next to him looks vaguely stoned, and Blaine sighs. "Want to go first?"  
  
"Uh, sure," the boy says. ...Todd? Tom? No, Blaine is fairly certain his name is Ted. Right.  
  
"Excuse me," Blaine says, reading from the book, "where can I find the nearest café?" He wonders if he’s supposed to be reading the questions in French, but at Ted's blank stare he thinks maybe not.  
  
While Ted is struggling to figure out how to answer, Blaine overhears, "Tu es le plus grand abruti que j’ai rencontré."   
  
It's Kurt.  
  
‘ _You are the biggest moron I have ever seen_.’  
  
At first Blaine thinks the comment is directed at him, his brain having latched onto ‘abruti.’ Maybe Kurt noticed him sitting so closely? But no, Kurt is looking at Azimio, chin held primly in his palm, a bored expression on his face. Blaine's jaw drops, but Azimio looks just as clueless as his own partner and doesn't seem to understand what Kurt said to him at all.  
  
"Uh, right. 'What food can I get at the café?,'" Azimio reads slowly.  
  
"Rien n'est assez dégoûtant pour satisfaire ton appétit," Kurt says in the same bored tone. "Je ne pense pas que les cafés de Paris servent des Big Macs ou même des tacos. C'est même assez drôle de t'imaginer à Paris."  
  
Blaine tries to follow what he's saying, all the while ignoring his partner as he fumbles through his own answer. He is fairly certain Kurt just told Azimio,  _'Nothing disgusting enough to suit your appetite. Somehow I don't think Paris cafes serve Big Macs and tacos. It's laughable to even think of you in Paris at all_.'  
  
Azimio stares blankly at Kurt and Blaine can't help it, he laughs out loud.   
  
Kurt turns in his seat, eyebrow raised in question, and Blaine quickly covers his mouth with his hands. He can't take back the laugh, though, and Kurt's expression says it all. He didn't think anyone would have been able to understand what he said, or at least that anyone else was listening.  
  
"C’est drôle, parce que c’est vérité," Blaine says with a smile. ‘ _It's funny because it's true_.’  
  
Blaine swears Kurt starts to smile, but whatever it starts as ends in a smirk. "I think you meant 'vrai.'"  
  
Blaine snorts. "Same thing."  
  
"Not if you're in  _France_ ," Kurt says, and starts to turn back around. "Mêlez-vous de vos affaires, Anderson."  
  
 _‘Mind your own business_ ,’ said without a drop of venom. Ted is looking at him in confusion, and Blaine clears his throat.  
  
"...What can I take to get to the Louvre?”

  
   
\----

  
   
Kurt stops picking on Blaine, but all attempts to say anything to the other boy are met with short answers and snark. However...  
  
In Biology, Kurt helps Blaine with his finicky Bunsen burner without being asked. Two days later, in gym class during a soccer game, he actually passes Blaine the ball. And in History he lends Blaine a pencil when he can’t find one for the scantron pop quiz.  
  
"...I just think there's something going on," Blaine says, seated in the choir room with Rachel, Tina, Mike, and Mercedes around him.  
  
"Like what?" asks Tina.  
  
Blaine sighs. "I don't know. I just don't think he's as bad as he acts. And his  _voice_ \--"  
  
Mercedes looks doubtful. They all do.  
  
"Blaine, honey, just 'cause the boy can sing don't mean a damn thing. I don't think there is one person in this room who hasn't been at the other end of Kurt's harassment. Except Santana, maybe," Mercedes adds, motioning to Santana with an eye roll. Santana is sitting on the opposite side of the room, braiding Brittany's hair, Quinn with them.  
  
"I can't  _count_  the number of times I've been slushied by him over the past three years," Rachel says with a frown.  
  
Mike adds, "Or been made fun of."  
  
"Spitballs," says Tina.  
  
"That one time he 'accidentally' dumped his plate of spaghetti on me in the lunch line," Mercedes says. "Blaine, life’s not like the movies. People aren't more than what they are. A jerk is just a jerk, and your life'll be a lot easier if you just leave him be."  
  
Blaine nods, but he still can't shake the feeling that there is more to Kurt Hummel than the school bully. Worse, he still can’t get Kurt singing Blackbird out of his head.  
  
\----  
   
Weeks pass by uneventfully.  
  
New Directions is preparing for Sectionals, and Wes is more than happy to tease Blaine over Skype about how Sectionals don't matter because the Warblers will crush New Directions at Regionals. Blaine reminds Wes that they might not even end up competing, but if they do,  _bring it_.  
  
He misses Dalton. He misses Wes and David and The Warblers. He could have stayed at Dalton, boys from farther away than he lives do. That's the whole point of a boarding school. But his mother insisted it would be too far to drive in case something happened, and honestly Blaine is surprised she'd care enough to think of that. Lord knows his father doesn’t. But that’s his mom, controlling and callous.  
  
"Blaine!"  
  
Speaking of his mother.  
  
Blaine's mother hates to drive, it gives her anxiety or the vapors or something, Blaine doesn't really know. But because of this he is often wrangled into driving her all over the place, and often wishes he had waited until he was eighteen to get a license. At eighteen he'll be off at college, hopefully as far away from his parents and the state of Ohio as possible.  
  
For now he is following his mom around Meijer, pushing the cart as she complains about the price of meat - as if dad doesn't make a ridiculous amount of money - the state of the organic kale, the way their cart wheel squeaks on occasion, and how Blaine is useless at all things various and sundry. He’s doing his best to drown her out by going over song lyrics in his head for glee. His imaginary iPod is on repeat and turned up at full volume.  
  
Blaine is leaning against the cart rail, thinking ‘ _what I’ve got’s full of stock, of thoughts and dreams that scatter, and you pull them all together, and how I can’t explain'_ when a familiar voice catches his attention.  
  
"...that isn't healthy. Do you see how much Sodium, dad?"  
  
Blaine looks over and seems to notice Kurt the exact moment Kurt notices him. They both just stand there, staring at each other in mute surprise for one long, frozen moment. Blaine is unsure if he should say hi or simply pretend he hasn't seen Kurt at all.  
  
Only, Burt sees him, too.  
  
"Hey. Blaine, right?" Burt says, waving the box of crackers he’s holding.  
  
Blaine stops slouching. "Yes, sir. I mean, hi." He smiles, but glances to his mother, hoping the cuts of meat will keep her at bay for now.  
  
"Kurt, aren'tcha gonna say hi?"  
  
Kurt's eyebrows are high, mouth in a tight line, nose upturned, and Blaine watches as he tries to relax. His smile looks pained. "Hello, Blaine," he says, voice soft.  
  
"Hi, Kurt. Are you...are you ready for the test on Monday? In French," he says, the words stumbling from his mouth in an awkward jumble. Burt thinks they are friends, he has to say  _something_.  
  
"Please. I run circles around all of you," says Kurt, looking smug.  
  
"My son, ever humble," Burt says, giving Kurt a playful smack on the head with the box of crackers.  
  
"Dad, my  _hair_."  
  
"Touchy, touchy."  
  
Blaine smiles. They probably would have left it at that and gone their separate ways, but just as he is about to say _‘Well, see you in school, have a good weekend,’_  his mother returns.  
  
"This place is disgusting. Blaine, did you not hear me when I told you to bring the cart over?"  
  
To say he is embarrassed is an understatement. Burt and Kurt are both looking at him, so what choice does he have but to introduce them? He would rather introduce the pair to a fire breathing dragon than subject them to his mother, but, manners.  
  
"Uh, mom. This is Burt Hummel, and Kurt, a friend from school."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Burt says, extending his free hand.  
  
Blaine's mother eyes Burt's hand suspiciously, and holds it as briefly as she can. "Pleasure," she says in such a way that it clearly is not.  
  
Burt doesn’t reply at first, and Blaine wants to die.  
  
"Mechanic's hands, y'know. They're clean, they just don't always look it," Burt says.  
  
His mother looks Burt up and down, then Kurt, her gaze finally going to Blaine as if to ask,  _these_  are the people you associate with?  "Mm. Well, I can only hope McKinley offers a better education than  _that_ ," she adds, looking to Blaine, "if you're to make anything of yourself."  
  
Blaine is mortified. He can't bring himself to look at anyone. He is just about to slink off with the cart, politeness be damned, when Kurt speaks up.  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but did you come here in a  _car_?"  
  
Blaine's mother huffs. "Well, of course--"  
  
"And do you expect that car has always and  _will_  always run perfectly? Even if you spend a million dollars on it, all cars have parts, and those parts will, eventually, start breaking down and stop working. And then where will you take your car, ma'am?" But Kurt doesn't wait for an answer, even when Burt tries to interject. "To a mechanic, right? More specifically, to  _us_. Because my father is the best mechanic in all of Lima, four years running. Look us up, Hummel Tires and Lube. And this, that I'm wearing?" Kurt motions to his shirt. "Is Burberry. Surely you've heard of the brand? We are not below you. So maybe you should think twice, or at  _all_ , before judging someone and spewing your rude and unfair opinions."  
  
Blaine can't believe what just happened, and if their faces are anything to go by, either can his mother or Burt. Blaine slowly lowers himself, holding onto the cart handle and peeking out from behind it, trying to hide his grin behind the bar. No one has  _ever_  spoken to his mother like that.  
  
"Kurt, that was uncalled for," Burt says, looking cross, but maybe a little proud, too.  
  
"I have never been so insulted," his mother starts, clearly flustered. She looks to him, suddenly, and Blaine's eyes widen in alarm. " _This_  is who you make friends with? This horrid little boy, Blaine? I knew we should have kept you at Dalton--"  
  
"Yes, ma'am, we're best friends," Kurt pipes up. "I showed Blaine how to smoke behind the bleachers without getting caught, and who the best people to cheat off are, and--"  
  
Blaine's mother sputters indignantly.  
  
"Kurt! That's enough, let's go," Burt says, grabbing Kurt by the back of his shirt collar like a mama cat with her baby, pushing Kurt and the cart away.  
  
" _Dad_ , did you miss the part where I said this is  _Burberry_ \--"  
  
"--I don't know what a Burberry is--"  
  
"-- _God_..."  
  
Blaine looks away from the Hummels when he realized his mom is going off on him. "-- _smoking_? We raised you better than that, Blaine! When we get home--"  
  
Yeah, no. He looks back over, despondent, at the same moment Kurt looks back at him. Kurt gives him a look of sympathy, glancing at his mother, and Blaine smiles a little like a shrug. And then something even more unexpected happens; Kurt smiles. At him. A friendly, gentle smile that Blaine has never seen on Kurt’s face before.  
  
Blaine looks away with a start when his mother grabs the cart away from him, stalking down the aisle. Blaine instinctively hurries to catch up amidst, "--when we get home we're going to have a long talk with your father--" He glances over his shoulder one more time, but Kurt isn't looking at him anymore.  
  
"Dad won't even be home for two days," Blaine mutters, following her.

  
  
\----

  
   
Blaine spends the rest of the day convincing his mother that he doesn't smoke or cheat or do any of the other things Kurt said. He does suggest, though, that maybe Dalton  _is_  the best place for him, feeling a small sense of hope bubbling up in his chest. She did mention they should have kept him there, he points out more than once. The academics at McKinley aren't as advanced, he doesn't mind boarding, and he'll always be just a phone call away. But it is the same as it was before they'd moved: "As much as I'd love to send you off, if something happens it's too far and too much of a hassle and you know how busy your father is..."  
  
It stings a little, the way she says she'd love to send him off, because he knows it's true. He often feels like nothing more than a burden to his parents, the son they had because that's what married people  _do_. A little Them to model in their image.  
  
Unfortunately, there aren’t many people he'd rather be  _less_  like than his mother and father.  
  
He knows exactly what they don't care for, and it’s singing and acting. Anything involving the arts. Sure, his mother had enrolled him in piano and violin lessons as a child, but it was just The Thing To Do. Upstanding children always know how to play the piano, or something. In reality she could care less about music, or Blaine's love of music, and she would have been horrified to find out that it’s kind of what Blaine wants to _do_. As in a career, as in the rest of his life.  
  
Blaine is grateful for the New Directions, to have friends who love music just as much as he does...but somehow he is still just so  _lonely_.  
  
He feels it in that moment like a lump in his throat. He appreciates Rachel and glee club, he does, but he misses Dalton and all his friends there. He misses his best friend, Wes. He misses his old life. He misses things he’s never had.  
  
Blaine closes his eyes. Just eight more months. Eight months and he graduates high school, he'll go to college somewhere out of state and he'll be gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine’s problem is that when he isn't thinking about how much he can't stand his parents, he’s thinking about  _Kurt_. He’s starting to seriously creep himself out, because what guy thinks about another guy so much? He's pretty sure the only way to stop will be if he can just figure out what’s up with Kurt. Once he solves the mystery of Kurt Hummel, things will go back to normal.  
  
Plan A. He goes over to Kurt’s house again, unannounced.  
  
Burt answers the door and his eyebrows raise in surprise.   
  
Blaine blushes, oh god, what had he been thinking? They probably both hate him now after the incident with his mom. "Hi-- I. I just wanted to apologize for the other day. At the grocery store," he says, already stepping back onto a lower step of the porch. He should leave.  
  
Burt's expression relaxes into understanding. "Hey, that's okay. You don't gotta apologize."  
  
Blaine is a little taken aback. "...Are you sure? Because--"  
  
"Look, kid, it isn't you, y'know? If your mom's got a problem?" He shrugs. "That's her deal."  
  
Blaine nods, but admits, "I feel bad. I don't share her opinion."  
  
"I figured." Burt smiles, and Blaine feels relieved. "You lookin for Kurt?"  
  
Another nod, a little less timid.  
  
"He's not due home for about another half hour or so. You wanna come in and wait?"  
  
"Uh." Blaine smiles tentatively. "Sure."  
  
Burt nods toward the inside of the house and holds the door open for him. He steps inside, smile growing.  
  
"You can watch TV if you want, game's on. Or you can help me make dinner," Burt says with a small laugh, like he knows what Blaine's choice will be.  
  
"I'd love to help," Blaine says, and that seems to catch Burt's attention.  
  
"Yeah? Ever make quinoa tacos?"  
  
"No, I've...never even heard of that. But I'm a fast learner." Blaine follows Burt into the kitchen where dinner is already started.  
  
"Had some heart trouble last year. Kid's got me on a healthy diet, so we use a special recipe book. No salt on anything," Burt sighs.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay now?" Blaine asks.  
  
"Yeah, thanks to Kurt. He's a sweet boy, couldn’t ask for better son." Burt talks as he gathers ingredients, pride evident in his voice and on his face. "Gets it from his mother, of course."  
  
"Is she at work?" And damn Blaine's penchant for speaking before thinking, leading him to say awkward, stupid things. He regrets it as soon as he sees the look in Burt's eyes.  
  
Burt goes still, staring at the cook book. "She passed away eleven years ago. Kurt was six."  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't know."  _Of course you didn't know, idiot_. "I'm-- That must be hard."  
  
"We get by," Burt says, finally turning to look at him with a smile. "Now, you think you can handle cutting up some cauliflower?"  
   
\----  
   
"Dad! I'm home!"  
  
Kurt comes running into the dining room, slightly breathless and excited about something. It lasts about two seconds. He stops short, confusion and surprise evident on his face. Blaine is sure Kurt probably didn't expect to come home and find him setting the table.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Did I walk into the wrong house, or..."  
  
Burt pokes his head out of the kitchen. "Hey, you're home. Just in time, dinner's about done."  
  
Kurt looks between Burt and Blaine, and slowly backs out of the room. Blaine listens to his footsteps ascend the stairs.  
  
Well, that wasn't awkward or anything.  
  
Blaine finishes setting the table and Kurt returns, nose in the air, composed. He comes up to Blaine, standing close by his side, and whispers near his ear, "Why are you in my house?"  
  
Blaine turns his face a little, unnerved. "You said we’re friends. Best friends."  
  
Kurt stares. "...You did not think I was being serious."  
  
Blaine just smiles.  
  
"You did  _not_."  
  
Of course he hadn't, but it's not like he’s going to say,  _nah I was just curious about how you seem to be two different people, so I decided to come over and get to know you._  
  
"Boys?" Burt carries the taco platter out and sets it on the table. "Care to bring out a dish?"  
  
"Of course," Blaine says dutifully, and slips past Kurt and into the kitchen to get the sautéed cauliflower. Kurt follows, bringing out pineapple slices. Blaine can feel Kurt's eyes on him, but ignores him and sits down at the table.  
  
"Thanks again for inviting me to dinner, Mr. Hummel," Blaine says after they start eating.  
  
"Burt. And of course. It goes a lot faster having help."  
  
Kurt looks mildly horrified. "You helped make dinner?"  
  
"Yes," Blaine says. "How else was I going to get the chance to poison your dinner?"  
  
Kurt opens his mouth, a half-eaten piece of cauliflower falling out. Blaine nearly doubles over in laughter.  
  
"That isn't  _funny_ ," Kurt grinds out, daintily picking up the piece of cauliflower with his napkin and setting it aside.  
  
"It’s pretty funny," Blaine says, wiping at the corner of his eye.  
  
"Is not."  
  
"Is too."  
  
"Is  _not_."  
  
"Boy, Kurt, what got up your butt?" Burt asks, snorting around a bite of food.  
  
Kurt colors and looks down at his plate. He picks up his fork, seeming to come to a decision, and smiles. "Nothing, dad. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to help make dinner, too."  
  
"Gotta get home earlier than six thirty, son," Burt says.  
  
"I was at the library."  
  
They continue to eat, Kurt and his dad talking about the script Kurt’s working on for Creative Writing. It’s a Western and he has to do research because he doesn’t know anything legitimate about horses or surviving in desert climates. Blaine listens quietly, mostly watching Kurt. Kurt sounds excited about the story, and even more excited when he brings up that he saw the For Sale sign in the window of a car he wants has been reduced in price by a thousand dollars.  
  
"What kind of car is it?" Blaine asks.  
  
Kurt looks over at him. "A 1965 Buick Riviera.” His attention returns to his father. “I just think it’d be fun to rebuild before I go to college."  
  
"Except you’re forgetting how you should be saving money for college, not some old car," Burt says.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, dad. It’s just a nice car. Plus, it’d be nice not having to share your truck."  
  
"We'll see."  
  
Kurt smiles and takes a bite of his taco.  
  
"I have a car," Blaine pipes up, "if you ever need a ride somewhere."  
  
Kurt almost chokes, and takes a long drink of milk, staring at Blaine over his glass as though trying to gauge if he’s messing with him or not.  
  
"You only live maybe five minutes away," Blaine adds.  
  
"Sure," Kurt says, catching his breath. "Thanks, Blaine."  
  
Blaine thinks this is kind of fun, how Kurt has to act nice to him because his dad is around. "No problem. Maybe we can go bowling or something. Or to Cedar Point."  
  
"You are not getting me on a roller coaster," Kurt says immediately.  
  
Burt chuckles. "It's true. Took him on the log ride when he was seven and it just about traumatized him."  
  
"I was soaking wet! Not to mention what they do to your hair,  _and_  your stomach." He stabs a pineapple slice, looking prissy. "Never again."  
  
Blaine smiles down at his plate. "That's the whole point."  
  
Kurt points the pineapple slice at him. "Never. Again."  
  
Blaine put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, no Cedar Point."  
  
"Besides," Kurt says, sucking the juice off the piece of fruit, "are you sure your mother would let you? She seems a bit..." He meets Blaine's gaze, challenging. "Uptight."  
  
"Kurt," Burt starts to say.  
  
"No, it's fine. No one is more aware of my mother's behavior than I am," Blaine says, looking Kurt right in the eye. "And to answer your question, Kurt, I doubt she would care. Beyond that, I'm sorry about what she said yesterday."  
  
Kurt licks his lip. A long moment passes. He must be unable to come up with a jab to return with. "It's fine. I hope I wasn't too out of line."  
  
"A bit," Burt says.  
  
What his mother did was humiliating, but it was far from the first time. Blaine swallows his shame, there is nothing else he can do. "Well, it is the truth."  
  
The conversation relaxes again after that, segueing into a discussion about movies coming out soon. At the end of the meal Burt starts to gather the dishes and Kurt stretches.  
  
"Well, it was nice of you to come over, Blaine..."  
  
Blaine just smiles.  
  
"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow at school?" Kurt concludes.  
  
"Oh. I don't have to go home yet," Blaine says, sounding overly happy. "Can I see your room? Do you have an X-Box?"  
  
Kurt freezes.  
  
"Go ahead, boys, I'll take care of clean up this time," Burt says, looking pleased.  
  
Kurt is glaring daggers at him, but stands up. "Sure, let's go." His smile is strained.  
  
"Awesome!" Blaine says, and follows Kurt up the stairs.  
  
As soon as they’re in Kurt’s bedroom, Kurt closes the door and backs Blaine up to it. "I could kill you for this," he hisses.  
  
Blaine just smiles; he was expecting this sort of reaction. "I'm not scared of you. You said we were friends."  
  
"I said that to piss off your mom," Kurt all but screeches, throwing his hands up. "God, and to think, I actually kind of felt  _bad_  for you."  
  
Blaine is a little touched by that, honestly. "For me?" Still, he came for a reason.  "That's weird, because I feel sorry for you."  
  
Kurt frowns, mouth tight. "What for?"  
  
"Because clearly you're trying very hard to be a good boy for dad. Or maybe you're trying to be a jerk at school. I can't tell."  
  
Kurt looks like he’s trying not to blow a gasket.  
  
"I don't get you," Blaine says, earnestly. "It's like you're two different people. Which one is the real you?"  
  
“Nothing that I do is any of your business,” Kurt snaps.  
  
Blaine steps forward, forcing Kurt a step back. “You made it my business when you slushied me on my first day of school.”  
  
“That was to warn you to  _back off_ —”  
  
“Well it didn’t work!”  
  
“What do I have to do to get you to leave me  _alone_? Do I have to sic Karofsky on you? Is that what it’ll take—”  
  
Blaine inwardly balks at the thought, but crosses his arms and fixes Kurt with a look of defiance. “I’m not afraid of you. I know you’re hiding something, I know you’re faking  _something_ \--”  
  
"Really, Blaine? Since you're so fucking observant, haven't you  _noticed_?" Kurt flattens a palm against the door next to Blaine's head, staring him down. "I'm different, and people who are different, people who stick out at this school? Are  _tormented_."  
  
"By you."  
  
Kurt's hand curls into a fist and bangs into the door. Blaine winces, but doesn’t move. "You think I started this? I do what I have to do."  
  
"But why are you different?" Blaine asks, frowning. "Because you have a high voice?"  
  
Kurt’s jaw drops in disbelief and anger. It takes a moment for him to reply. "And I'm skinny, unathletic, and I'm -- I used to be short. I used to look very young for my age."  
  
Blaine studies Kurt’s face. No, there’s something else. Kurt seems worried, there is still this look of panic underneath his anger, like a wounded animal, and Blaine, the fox. Blaine doesn’t mean to be, but he shakes his head. Kurt is holding back and he needs to  _know_. "I don't buy it," he says. "That can't be it--"  
  
“Do you need me to spell it out for you, Blaine? I’m  _gay_.” Kurt says it in a breath, barely pausing to take another. “And I don’t want anyone to know.”  
  
Blaine feels his face heat up without knowing why. He wonders if it shows, if Kurt can tell.  
  
“I-- oh.”  
  
Kurt can't have noticed, though, because he is slowly backing away. He’s even paler than normal and looks like he’s about puke. " _Oh god_ ," he says, walking backwards until his shoulder hits the wall. He slides down, crouching on the floor. "Why did I just say that..."  
  
The news isn’t as shocking for Blaine as it apparently is for Kurt. Not that Blaine suspected, but it’s just not a big deal. He’s known a few gay guys at Dalton. Rachel’s dads are gay. It’s not like he’s never met somebody like that before. Still, Blaine doesn't know how to respond. Kurt isn't a friend, but he isn't...well, Blaine doesn't know  _what_  he is.  
  
Blaine decides that even if they aren’t friends, Kurt looks like he could use one right now, so he edges closer and hesitantly sits down next to him. "I won't tell," he says in a quiet voice. He may not like Kurt, he may have even wanted to give him some crap for the things he's done, but he would never, ever use this against him.  
  
Kurt doesn't say anything, just covers his face with his hands, fingers tangling in his hair.  
  
"I promise, Kurt," Blaine says, reaching out to touch Kurt's arm.  
  
Kurt pushes his hand away and looks at him, gaze hard but eyes unmistakably watery. "Stop it, Blaine. You don't even _like_ me."  
  
"So?" Blaine snaps, clasping his own fingers like Kurt’s touch hurt them. "That doesn't mean I'm going to  _out_  you."  
  
"Shh!  _Fuck_."  
  
Blaine blushes, but lowers his voice. "I'm  _not_  that kind of person."  
  
Kurt rubs his hand over his forehead, his eyes, trying to collect himself. He doesn't look at Blaine when he speaks up. "No one else knows. Not even my dad."  
  
Only then is Blaine hit with the enormity of the situation. He wants to ask,  _why me_? But suspects Kurt won’t be able to come up with an answer anyway. It was a mistake, something that has probably been building up and accidentally spilled out. No one has ever shared a secret like this with Blaine before, and he doesn't know how to handle it. Afraid he’s going to say the wrong thing, he doesn't say anything at all.  
  
"So that's why," Kurt continues, voice raw, "I protect myself. No one's going to mess with me if I'm on the side no one messes with. It's logic, Blaine. This is Lima, not New York, or San Francisco, or whatever mythical places exist where people don't care if you're gay." He stares down at his knees. "I just want to get through high school with minimal torture."  
  
Blaine is quiet for a long moment. "But don't you get it? You're doing to others exactly what you're afraid will happen to you."  
  
Kurt's whips his head around to look at him. "I don't hurt anyone."  
  
"Because slushies are all in good fun," Blaine counters. "Besides, you have shoved me."  
  
"I don't enjoy it!" Kurt exclaims. "I'm sure you won't believe me, but I don't. I don't like being an asshole. I don't like having no friends. But I also don't want to get beat up and have my own ostracization beyond my control. You have no idea--" His hands fist the fabric of his jeans. "I try not to go out of my way to pick on people. It's usually required at the beginning of the year to set a precedent. To remind people to stay away from me. With you..."   
  
The corner of Kurt's mouth turns up just a little, but there’s a bitterness to it. "You fought back. So I had to fight harder." The tiny smile disappears. "I'm sorry I shoved you. What Karofsky said hit a little too close to home."  
  
Blaine has already forgiven Kurt, and takes his hand. Kurt jerks it from his grasp, eyes flashing that same frightened anger.  
  
"What? You're gay, you don't have the  _plague_." He takes Kurt's hand once more.  
  
There is a faint tint to Kurt's cheeks, his features pinched. "Aren't you afraid I'm going to hit on you?"  
  
Blaine lets out a laugh. "Is that what you think people will think?"  
  
Kurt raises his eyebrows.  
  
Blaine smiles. "No, I'm not afraid. You don't even like me."  
  
Kurt’s mouth twists into a smirk. "True."  
  
"Careful, I think your McKinley alter-ego is rubbing off on you," Blaine says.  
  
"No, that's just me," Kurt says, nose upturned. "I may not like being a bully, but I am kind of a bitch."  
  
Blaine laughs again, he can't help it.  
  
Kurt smiles and gently sets Blaine’s hand back down on his own knee, and clears his throat. "Anyway," his voice softens. "Seriously. Thanks. For not freaking out on me."  
  
"It doesn't bother me," Blaine says. "I knew a few guys at Dalton who were gay." At Kurt's curious look, he continues. "It’s an all-boys private school with a no harassment policy. I know one of them transferred there specifically because he'd been bullied."  
  
Kurt seems to consider this. "Why'd you leave?"  
  
"My dad's job." Blaine shrugs, frowning.  
  
"You miss it?"  
  
Blaine nods, clasping his fingers together in his lap.  
  
Kurt’s eyes linger on Blaine’s hands. "I'm sorry."  
  
Blaine smiles. "It's okay. I made some friends here, it's not so bad."  
  
Kurt's eyebrow arches. "The glee club?"  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"I just do." Kurt shrugs a shoulder. "Same way anyone knows anyone else’s business at school. It just goes around."  
  
"Oh. Well, yeah. I really like it. Everybody's nice, and I like singing." He peeks over at Kurt. "You should join."  
  
"Glee club?" Kurt's reply positively drips with disdain.  
  
Blaine meets Kurt’s disdain with sarcasm. "Yeah,  _glee club_. You can  _sing_."  
  
"Never going to happen, it's probably one step below being openly gay."  
  
Blaine frowns and feels an unfamiliar ache in his chest. Kurt seems to be denying himself so many things, all for image and reputation. "You can slushie me every day. It'd still be worth it."  
  
Kurt's expression deflates. "You really are something else."  
  
Blaine gives a questioning look, and Kurt just shakes his head.  
  
"Well, anyway. We're performing at the pep assembly this Friday,” Blaine says. “Maybe you'll change your mind when you see how awesome we are. And I have the solo," he says, preening. Solos, he’s used to, but he hadn't expected to get one so quickly when he’d just joined the group. Everyone seemed happy to give it to him, they said no one appreciated them at the school assemblies. Blaine doesn't care, he just wants to perform.  
  
Kurt groans. "Your funeral. You forget that I've gone here the last three years. Glee club performances have always been...interesting." He perks up. "In fact, I can't wait to see what happens. This is going to be funny."  
  
"...You're excited about my social decline, aren't you?"  
  
"Maybe just a little," Kurt says.  
  
"Rude."  
  
Kurt grins.  
  
"No, really. You're the worst friend ever. Best friend. Worst best friend," Blaine adds.  
  
"Oh my god, you  _know_  I was just messing with your mom when I said that," Kurt says.  
  
Blaine is beaming and tries to put an arm around Kurt. "Nope. It was a confession. A love confession."  
  
Kurt tries to squirm out of his grasp, but Blaine just holds on tighter.  
  
"I'll puke, I really will--"  
  
"Best friends forever!"  
  
"--all over you, because of how sick you're making me feel--"  
  
"With love? I'm lovesick, too. I always wanted such a fashion-forward friend. _Burberry_ , Kurt?"  
  
"--I'm going to end you--"  
  
"Can I borrow your Burberry? I'll swap you a Dolce and Gabanna button up," Blaine says.  
  
Kurt stops fighting, interest piqued . "...Seriously?"  
  
Blaine blinks. "Awww! Friends!" he bursts, and hugs Kurt to him.  
  
Kurt sighs. "I hate you so much, you have no idea."  
  
"Not when I bring you that D&G you won't," he says in a sing-song voice.  
  
"...We'll see."  
  
\----  


Kurt walks Blaine to the door. Burt is watching football in the other room, and Blaine calls out to thank him for dinner. He turns to Kurt, who is frowning again, worrying his lower lip.  
  
"Promise you won't tell?" Kurt asks in a voice so quiet Blaine almost can't hear.  
  
"I promise," Blaine says.  
  
Kurt still looks unsure, as though out of the safety of his bedroom, Blaine's word suddenly mean nothing. Blaine doesn’t blame Kurt. They do barely know each other and it isn't like Kurt has much reason to trust him. He isn't Blaine, who tends to trust people immediately and automatically.  
  
"You want to pinky swear?" Blaine asks.  
  
Kurt looks at him as if he's just spoken some alien language. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Pinky swear." Blaine holds up his pinky.  
  
Kurt huffs out a laugh. "Uh. Okay." He holds up his pinky, which Blaine clamps onto with his own.  
  
Blaine leans in. "Your secret's safe with me," he says, smiling.  
  
Kurt looks up from where he's been staring at their pinkies, a little dazed, and nods. 


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine finds Kurt at his locker first thing in the morning.  
  
“Hey,” he says, sidling up with a smile.  
  
Kurt turns toward him, eyes wide in mute horror. His eyes narrow and he calmly closes his locker. “What do you want, Anderson?”  
  
“Um.” Blaine frowns. “Just saying hi…”  
  
“Hi.” Kurt smiles sugar-sweet and completely fake. “Now leave me alone.”  
  
Kurt walks away. Blaine watches until he loses sight of him in the moving sea of bodies that fill the hallway.  
  
Maybe Kurt is just tired. Or maybe Kurt is still worried that he’ll tell people. He decides to reassure Kurt so maybe he won’t be so rude from now on. He jogs to the vending machine and gets a bottle of Coke, stuffing it into his backpack.  
  
He’s only a few minutes late to homeroom, but Mr. Abela never notices tardiness. Kurt is sitting in the back corner of the room and Blaine bypasses his usual seat, Rachel and Finn’s questioning looks following him as he slides into the desk next to Kurt. As quietly as possible, which isn’t very quiet at all, he scoots his desk next to Kurt’s.  
  
“I brought you a present,” Blaine says, voice hushed, and pulls the Coke from his backpack, setting it on Kurt’s desk. He smiles encouragingly.  
  
Kurt gapes at him. “You…” He ducks his head low and whispers, “Are you an idiot?”  
  
Blaine’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re welcome?”  
  
“ _What are you doing_?” Kurt hisses, a red flush stealing up his neck.  
  
“I was bringing you a Coke in case you’re tired!” Blaine whisper-yells.  
  
“Blaine.” Kurt’s lips thin into a line and he looks like he is trying very hard to be patient. “We are not friends.”  
  
Blaine taps his chin with his pen. “Yes we are. You said. Best friends.” He grins. And yeah, he knows Kurt was just messing around, but after last night he thinks they really  _should_ be friends. Blaine wants to know more about Kurt; the Kurt that doesn’t slushie people.  
  
“Blaine,” Kurt growls and pauses. “Regardless of…last night. We’re at school.” At this he sounds less angry and more helpless than anything, and Blaine frowns.  
  
“But—”  
  
“Go, Blaine. I’m serious. You’re going to get us both in trouble,” Kurt says.  
  
“None of your friends are even in here,” Blaine protests, pulling his backpack back onto his shoulder.  
  
Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Quinn is friends with Santana, who occasionally sleeps with Puck.”  
  
Blaine considers that. “I don’t understand, how does Santana get away with being in glee, but you can’t?”  
  
Kurt snorts. “ _No one_  messes with Santana.”  
  
He looks down at his text book, effectively dismissing Blaine.  
  
Defeated, Blaine gets up and slinks back over to his usual desk. Everyone in his group is looking at him, Quinn included. Blaine sucks his lower lip into his mouth a moment. “I spilled his Coke yesterday in class. He told me I had to get him a new one or he’d…kick my ass or whatever,” he says, half-heartedly making something up.  
  
Rachel looks positively scandalized. “Blaine!” She glares at Kurt, and Blaine looks over just in time to see that Kurt has seen it. Great, now Rachel will probably get slushied and it’s all his fault. “He’s such a  _jerk_ ,” Rachel is saying, her attention back on Blaine. She takes his hand and leans her head on his shoulder a moment.  
  
Blaine smiles a little at her attempt to console him. “It’s okay. I shook the bottle before I came in here,” he lies.  
  
\----  


 

Blaine finds a note from Kurt taped to the inside of his Gym locker.

_Thanks for the Coke, but that was a thoughtless move._

_Meet me outside by the dumpster near the small basketball court at lunch._

_\- K_

Blaine smiles and shoves the note in his pocket, hurrying off to his next class.

\----

Blaine shows up to their meeting spot in a trenchcoat, bright pink fedora, and dark sunglasses. The look on Kurt’s face is well worth it.  
  
“What the hell are you wearing?” Kurt asks.  
  
Blaine grins. “I’m trying to stay incognito for our secret rendezvous.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Kurt groans. “Must you be this dramatic?”  
  
“Hey, I’m not the one who requires secrecy. I’m just trying to help you out.”  
  
“Oh yes, FBI sunglasses, a pink fedora, and a trenchcoat is  _very_ inconspicuous. Where did you even get this ridiculous thing?” Kurt asks, touching the sleeve of his coat. “It’s like three sizes too big for you.”  
  
“Drama club,” Blaine says, batting Kurt’s hand away. He probably wants to tailor it on Blaine where he stands.  
  
“And you really thought you wouldn’t be teased at this school?” Kurt says, smirking almost fondly.  
  
“Hey, I was very popular at Dalton. People appreciated my charm and humor.”  
  
“Of course you they did, all-boys schools are full of sexually-repressed nerds.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“ _Anyway_ ,” Kurt says. “I’m going to make this quick, though I really shouldn’t have to explain this to you in the first place.” He leans against the wall, arms crossed, voice gone serious. “I’ve built myself a certain reputation, as you’ll recall? And befriending you would destroy it. So please, it would benefit us both if you don’t approach me in public.”  
  
Blaine frowns, watching the effortless way Kurt raises his walls back up around him. “Is it really worth it, Kurt?”  
  
“Of course it is,” Kurt says immediately.  
  
“But they aren’t your friends—”  
  
“And neither are you,” Kurt snaps.  
  
“Yes I am.”  
  
“Blaine, you hardly know me.”  
  
“And they do?” Blaine asks, pulling his sunglasses off. Kurt is watching him, an unreadable look in his eyes. “I know something about you. I know a few things.”  
  
Kurt’s expression is thunderous. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”  
  
“What? Of course I won’t. That wasn’t a  _threat_ , Kurt, it was a fact,” Blaine says, stepping closer. “I know…that. And I know that you care about your father. I know you take care of him.”  _I know about your mother_. “I know that you’re saving up to buy an old car. I know you care about fashion, and music, even if you won’t admit it. I know you like Vonnegut and birds and Broadway.” Kurt hasn’t actually said as much about a few of those, but Blaine is observant and it’s all laid out in Kurt’s bedroom.  
  
Kurt is staring at Blaine with wide eyes, clearly not having expected that. Blaine takes his silence as an opportunity to continue.  
  
“Do they know that?” Blaine asks. “They probably don’t think you care about anything at all.” Kurt looks away. “And if they knew, what would they say? They would use it against you. But I think it’s great. I love music and Broadway and I try to dress nicely, and I’ve never read Vonnegut, but I bet it’s great. And I don’t care if you’re gay.”  
  
Kurt’s gaze snaps back and his hand flies up, covering Blaine’s mouth. “ _Stop_. Just  _stop_.”  
  
His blue eyes are piercing. Blaine simply looks back, letting out a breath through his nose.  
  
Kurt slowly lowers his hand, looking away again. He drags the palm that had been on Blaine’s mouth over his sleeve, curling his fingers in the fabric. “You’re brave, Blaine. I’m just not.”  
  
“That’s not true,” Blaine says, shaking his head.  
  
Kurt looks at him. “Haven’t you ever been afraid of something?”  
  
“The dark?” Blaine blurts out.  
  
Kurt lets out a startled laugh. “The dark?”  
  
“Hey, don’t make fun of me, it’s a legitimate fear,” Blaine huffs.  
  
“Better than clowns, I suppose.”  
  
Blaine feels uneasy. He isn’t such a fan of clowns, either.  
  
“Look,” Kurt says. “I know they aren’t real friends. No one understands that better than me. I just want to finish High School, then I can make all the friends I need in New York.”  
  
“New York?”  
  
Kurt hesitates. “I want to go to Parsons. It’s a school for design—”  
  
“I watch Project Runway,” Blaine says.  
  
Kurt gives him a strange look. “…You do?”  
  
Blaine blushes. “So? I think the clothes are cool!”  
  
“Well. That’s what I’d like to do. Not go on Project Runway, but…be a designer.” Kurt’s cheeks have taken on that pink tinge again. His complexion is so pale it shows everything. It’s kind of endearing.  
  
“That’s really great, Kurt,” Blaine says.  
  
Kurt smiles softly. Blaine can tell it’s hard for him to open up like this and decides to lets him off the hook. “Can I have your phone number?” he asks.  
  
Kurt looks at him suspiciously. “What for?”  
  
“I dunno,” Blaine says, and shrugs. “Maybe I’ll want to tell you something, and then I won’t have to bother you and get slushied for it.”  
  
Kurt seems reluctant, and it’s a moment before he answers. “Well, alright. Give me your phone, then.”  
  
Blaine hands him his Android, which Kurt takes delicately. He enters his info into it and returns it with a nod. “I can’t imagine what you’d need to tell me, but there.”  
  
“Thanks.” Blaine beams, pocketing his phone. “So, I guess we should get back to lunch before it’s over.”  
  
“Mm. I’ll go first. You wait a few minutes so it doesn’t look like I’m being stalked by the Pink Panther.” Kurt smiles a little and taps the rim of his fedora.  
  
Blaine grins, lopsided. “Yes, sir.”  
  
Kurt turns to leave when Blaine remembers something. “Kurt, wait—”  
  
Kurt looks over his shoulder, eyebrows arched in question.  
  
“In homeroom…I saw the way you looked when Rachel was, um…looking at you.” He takes a breath. “Don’t slushie her, okay? She’s a nice girl. She doesn’t deserve it.”  
  
Kurt’s eyes go cold, mouth in a grim line. Blaine hadn’t expected him to get angry at his request, and he suddenly wishes he hadn't mentioned it. “You think you can tell me what to do now?” he finally asks.  
  
“ _No_. I’m just asking you not to,” Blaine says, frustrated. “If you have to slushie somebody to keep Karofsky and the rest off your back, slushie me instead, okay?”  
  
“God, you’re a  _moron_ ,” Kurt hisses, and stalks away.  
  
\----  


Kurt still seems pissed off in French class, and since chewing on his pen cap and staring at the back of Kurt’s head isn’t conducive to anything, Blaine texts him.  
  
 **B:**  my middle name is KURT not FART  
  
Kurt’s phone vibrates and he turns in his seat to glare at Blaine a moment. Blaine looks back, wide-eyed. How did he know?  
  
 **K:**  Excuse me?  
  
Blaine grins and texts back under his desk, hoping Kurt has turned his phone to silent mode.  
  
 **B:**  don’t you watch the office?  
  
 **K:**  No  
  
 **B:**  fail  
  
 **K:**  This is textual harassment and I’ll have you know it’s a punishable offense.  
  
 **B:**  are you still mad at me??  
  
 **K:**  You are like a 5 yr old child. No.  
  
 **B:**  thanks for not slushing rachel  
  
 **K:**  It’s been a half hour, Blaine.  
  
 **B:**  i’m thanking you in advance!  
  
 **K:**  How do you know I won’t?  
  
 **B:**  because you love me :)  
  
 **K:**  You aren’t my type.  
  
 **B:**  it’s a friendship love…….. a bromance!  
  
 **K:**  No thank you.  
  
 **B:**  you want it to be something more? i’m not ready for the next step kurt  
  
 **K:**  I’m going to block you.  
  
 **B:**  :(  
  
 **B:**  :(  
  
 **B:**  :(  
  
 **K:**  >:(  
  
 **B:**  :@  
  
 **K:**  What exactly is that supposed to be?  
  
 **B:**  a cow :)  
  
Several minutes pass before Kurt finally texts back.  
  
 **K:**  :V  
  
 **B:**  a duck?  
  
 **K:**  You.  
  
 **B:**  that isn’t very nice  
  
 **K:**  Guilty as charged.  
  
 **B:**  you won’t slushy rachel?  
  
 **K:**  Dear god, this again? No, I won’t. But this is a real hardship for me, Rachel Berry is insufferable.  
  
 **B:**  no it’s not i know you don’t like being mean like that. and she is not, she’s sweet  
  
 **K:**  You’ll both have lovely hobbit children, I’m sure.  
  
 **B:**  so rude!!! we aren’t dating. she likes finn  
  
There is another long pause.  
  
 **K:**  Typical.  
  
 **B:**  except he’s dating quinn  
  
 **K:**  I don’t want to hear your glee club gossip.  
  
 **B:**  i can tell you a joke instead. ………….a priest and a little boy walk into the woods together. “i’m scared,” says the little boy. “what are you scared of?” says the priest, “you aren’t the one that has to walk out of here alone”  
  
Blaine doesn’t hear Kurt laugh, but he does see him smile, chin rested on his palm so he can hide his mouth behind his fingers.  
  
 **K:**  Disturbing, yet funny. I’m surprised. Sois attentif en classe, sinon tu couleras.  
  
Leave it to Kurt to send him a text message in  _French_. Blaine is pretty sure it says to pay attention or he’ll fail.  
  
 **B:**  d’accord. je serai sage. au revoir :)  
  
 **K:**  Cretin.  
  
\----  


The next day, at lunch, Blaine texts Kurt again.  
  
 **B:**  are you eating the macaroni? i think the cheese is mixed with rubber cement  
  
 **K:**  I make a point not to eat anything with a face.  
  
 **B:**  ?? it was chicken patties yesterday and i know u got one  
  
 **K:**  Yes, and did you see a face?  
  
Blaine is about to reply, when Kurt sends him a picture of the macaroni on his plate shaped into a face. “Oh my god,” Blaine says out loud, grinning at the absurdity of it.  
  
Rachel looks over, curious. “Someone’s happy.”  
  
“Uh…” Blaine can’t stop smiling. It’s just so funny. “It’s nothing.”  
  
Mercedes is looking at him like she doesn’t believe a word of it, and Blaine tries to school his expression. He texts back.  
  
 **B:**  that’s a masterpiece. you should show it to mr. bishop  
  
 **K:**  He wouldn’t appreciate it.  
  
 **B:**  so many artists go unappreciated until they die….  
  
 **K:**  Are you trying to tell me something, Blaine?  
  
 **B:**  yes, don’t be an artist  
  
 **K:**  LOL. Shoo now, my tablemates keep trying to see my texts.  
  
 **B:**  bye :)  
  
Rachel is still watching him, eyebrows drawn up in worry. Blaine doesn’t understand.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he asks.  
  
She sits a little straighter and her expression goes back to normal. “I- It’s nothing. I’m just…concerned. That you aren’t prepared for your solo at the pep assembly. I, for one, think it would benefit you to practice with someone  _experienced_. I am very familiar with the stage and the best ways to tilt your face against bad lighting.” She smooths the skirt of her dress. “No one at this school seems to understand how to properly direct the lights during a performance.”  
  
By the end, Blaine isn’t sure how this conversation even started. “Uh, sure, Rach. We can work on it.”  
  
“Really?” Her smile is brilliant. “Tomorrow, after school?”  
  
“Sure, I’ll meet you at your locker.”  
  
Rachel, still smiling, goes back to eating and listening in on Mercedes and Tina talking about whatever. Blaine looks back to his phone, wishing it’d light up with a new message.  
  
\----  


On Thursday, during Government, it’s Kurt who texts him first.  
  
 **K:**  Can I copy your notes from Bio today? I can’t find my notebook. Went back and looked but it wasn’t there.  
  
Blaine is so surprised and stupidly excited to get the text he nearly forgets to hide his phone while replying.  
  
 **B:**  that sucks!!! hope you don’t have anything personal in there  
  
 **K:**  Yes, I keep a diary and bring it to school. That would be smart of me. Now can I or not?  
  
 **B:**  ask nicely  
  
Almost ten minutes pass before Kurt replies.  
  
 **K:**  May I copy your notes, please?  
  
And because Blaine is sometimes kind of a dick (though in a harmless way!)…  
  
 **B:**  what’s the magic word?  
  
 **K:**  I won’t dump a slushie over your head?  
  
 **B:**  wrong  
  
 **K:**  Fine. I already said please, so I don’t know. Pretty please?  
  
 **B:**  are you calling me pretty?  
  
 **K:**  Never.  
  
 **B:**  wrong  
  
 **K:**  I’ll get them from someone else.  
  
 **B:**  who?  
  
 **K:**  Anyone.  
  
 **B:**  the magic word is ALOHAMORA  
  
 **K:**  That’s to open doors.  
  
 **B:**  you read harry potter?????????????????????????????  
  
 **K:**  I am a fully functioning oxygen-breathing bipedal homosapien. Yes, I’ve read Harry Potter.  
  
 **B:**  are you in pottermore!?!?  
  
 **K:**  Maybe.  
  
 **B:**  what house!?!?  
  
 **K:**  Slytherin.  
  
 **B:**  LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL  
  
 **K:**  Let me guess, you’re a Hufflepuff.  
  
 **B:**  how did you know??  
  
 **K:**  I’m psychic.  
  
 **B:**  what’s your username? i’m PixieDust23  
  
 **K:**  Wow. You do know there are like five names to choose from, right?  
  
 **B:**  pixies are cute! :) :)  
  
 **K:**  My username is BronzeCentaur90  
  
 **B:**  i’m adding you right now!! i’m going to sneak into your dorm and put itching powder in your bed  
  
 **K:**  And I’m going to magic you to the Forbidden Forest because Fluffy’s hungry.  
  
 **B:**  i’ll put him to sleep with my flute  
  
 **K:**  Keep your pornographic thoughts to yourself, please.  
  
 **B:**  wow you have a lot of house points  
  
 **K:**  So, about those notes…  
  
 **B:**  sure but then you owe me  
  
 **K:**  Thank you.  
  
 **B:**  bye bronze centaur….. lol  
  
 **K:**  Sigh.  
  
\----  


So maybe their friendship is now mostly via text message, but it’s better than nothing. Not that Blaine can, if asked, explain  _why_  exactly it is that he wants to be friends with Kurt in the first place. He just…does. Kurt is funny, and smart. Blaine thinks he’s lonely, too, which is something he understands.  
  
Blaine sends Kurt a text on Friday morning during Calculus.  
  
 **B:**  so……about that favor you owe me. i want you to sit somewhere at the assembly where you’ll be able to see. don’t skip, don’t sit in the way back. i want you to see me.  
  
 **K:**  I see enough of you as it is. Three classes together, it’s like they’re trying to torture me or something.  
  
 **B:**  funny. i’m serious. i want you to see me perform!  
  
 **K:**  If you want to embarrass yourself, fine by me.  
  
 **B:**  :)  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Pottermore was a thing?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief Kurt POV

_I want you to see me_. That sentence is doing things to Kurt. Things he doesn’t want to think about, things he certainly doesn’t want to own up to.  
  
What is he supposed to do, though? Blaine is like a puppy dog yipping for attention.  _Always_  around. And he doesn’t have the heart to tell him to get lost for good. Part of it, he knows, is because Blaine knows his secret. And  _boy_  was he stupid that night. He’s never been so careless. It’s like the weight of his secret, this part of him, built up and up until there was nowhere left to go but out. So out it came.  
  
 _He_  came out.  
  
He came out to  _Blaine Anderson_.  
  
Just thinking about it makes Kurt go cold all over.  
  
And yet…somehow, just a little - not that he will admit this to a living soul - he kind of trusts Blaine. Deep down he doesn’t think Blaine will tell. Blaine is too  _good_ , he wouldn’t want to hurt Kurt. Still, though, only a few people on the internet who live entire states away know about him, and for someone here and real knowing, it’s scary and dangerous.  
  
There’s a worse part, though. The part Kurt refuses to think about, even in the middle of the night. Instead he’ll cast his mind elsewhere; song lyrics, homework, doesn’t matter. Anything that has nothing to do with Blaine Anderson.  
  
So it’s with a slight sense of foreboding that Kurt sits down in the second row of gymnasium bleachers. Karofsky and Azimio are going to give him shit for not cutting, which is hilarious considering they’re  _football players_ , and who else is this stupid assembly for? Puck will be here because he likes the cheerleaders’ skirts. Kurt glances around for him but doesn’t see him.  
  
Kurt lets out an unsteady breath and waits for the show to begin.  
  
Glee is, of course, one of the last performances. Kurt has to sit through the cheerleaders, the majorettes, the band, even the freaking  _flags_. No, seriously, who joins the  _flags_? Kurt wonders how glee can be bottom rung when this school has the  _flag squad_.  
  
His uncharitable thoughts are interrupted when Principal Figgins comes over the mic.  
  
“And noooow,” Figgins says, somehow managing to sound bored and enthusiastic all at once, “for your enjoyment, New Directions!”  
  
A somewhat familiar beat starts up and the members of New Directions pour out onto the stage in formation. They’re wearing red pants or skirts and white tops, but Kurt only really sees Blaine. His shirt is very snug (like his pants, Kurt can’t help but notice), adorned with a blue and red striped bow tie - god, he’s going to get himself killed if he keeps dressing like this - hair gelled down, and that ridiculous sunshine look on his face.  
  
He just looks…stylish, and..dashing, and  _dapper_.  
  
Which. Is kind of Kurt’s thing.  
  
“Before  _you met me, I was alright, but things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life_ ,” Blaine sings, leading the other members in choreographed moves.  
  
“ _Now every February, you’ll be my Valentine…_ ”  
  
Blaine jumps off the stage and onto the gymnasium floor.  
  
“ _Valentine…”_  
  
And the other members follow.  
  
“ _Let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love_ ,” Blaine’s singing, and Kurt can barely breathe, because what the hell, Blaine is staring  _right at him_.  
  
The New Directions are all over the gymnasium, but at any time that it seems humanly possible, Blaine is singing to him, and that’s not fair. It’s just really not, because Blaine’s shirt is tight and his pants are tight and he looks  _really_  good, and his voice is  _really_  good, and he keeps looking at Kurt and it’s making him blush.  
  
“ _You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream!”_  Blaine points at him and Kurt blushes, looks around, afraid, but it seems that everyone in the general vicinity thinks Blaine is pointing at them. The girls are leaning into small clusters, giggling, and Kurt has to assume the guys are looking at Brittany and Santana because he doubts they’re all cat-calling Blaine.  
  
“ _The way you turn me on…”_  Blaine dances over toward his part of the bleachers, and Kurt has to put his backpack on his lap.  _“…My heart stops when you look at me, just one touch, now, baby, I believe._ ”  
  
Why is Blaine doing this to him?  
  
And…wait. That’s exactly it. Why  _is_  he doing this?  
  
Revenge. Clearly. Blaine is more clever and manipulative than Kurt ever imagined. Hufflepuff his  _ass_. It’s the only explanation; Kurt bullied Blaine and Blaine’s friends, Blaine learned his big secret, and now Blaine’s using it against him.  
  
And maybe Kurt deserves it, but that doesn’t make him any less pissed off.  
  
With one last look, Blaine makes his way down the line, dancing in a way that should be illegal. Thankfully no one seems to notice Kurt at all, they’re too busy going nuts.  
  
Kurt stands his backpack up on his knees, peeking out from behind it for the rest of the performance. He’s going to kill Blaine for this. He glares Blaine’s way, trying to convey his deep, deep hatred. But it’s too late, Blaine’s already traipsing off to the stage with the rest of them, the number finished.  
  
Blaine will pay. Kurt is not going through the Finn thing all over again. He told himself after that that he’ll just have to wait for college until he can open himself up to the possibility of, well. Anything. And as far as allowing himself to form some infatuation with another straight boy?  _Hell no_. Even if the straight boy has really nice—  _no_. Down that road only danger lies.  
  
His pocket buzzes. Kurt takes out his phone, giving it a disdainful look.  
  
 **B:**  what did you think????? :)  
  
Kurt grits his teeth. Does Blaine really think he’s so stupid?  
  
He doesn’t answer right away.  
  
 **K:**  Meet me in the lobby Monday morning before homeroom.  
  
 **B:**  ok?  
  
Kurt turns his phone off and escapes the gym before Blaine has a chance to seek him out.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt ignores all ten of Blaine's text messages, and Blaine can't figure out why. Maybe he wants to talk about the performance in person? But why then doesn't he just ask to meet Blaine after school? It was Kurt's idea not to talk in public in the first place, and now he wants to meet in the busiest place in the whole school?  
  
It makes no sense to Blaine, but Kurt asked, and so Blaine waits. He tugs impatiently at his satchel strap, chewing at his bottom lip. He's never been very good at waiting.  
  
When Blaine sees Kurt coming his way he smiles wide, tries to tamper down on his eagerness, it's just--  
  
Kurt and...Karofsky? And Azimio and Puck?  
  
Blaine just looks at Kurt, doesn't say anything, gaze questioning.  
  
Before he even realizes what they're holding, he's hit with four consecutive slushies. He gasps, it's so cold. _So_  cold.  _Kurt..._  
  
"Do not. Fuck with me," comes Kurt's voice in a dangerous hiss, followed by a hard shoulder bump that sends him stumbling, slipping in the mess. He falls on his butt in the middle of the lobby, covered in slushie. He hears laughter and catcalls and pseudo commiserative groans and wipes desperately at his eyes. Part of him is waiting for Rachel to come help him with her towel, but no one's there. No one who has his back, anyway.  
  
Shivering, shaking from more than just cold, Blaine stands up. His eyes already sting, but he forces them open and looks around, having never felt so embarrassed. He's soaked, head to toe. He has a change of clothes in his locker, but he  _can't_. He feels betrayed. It's not like Kurt ever promised to be his friend, but Blaine did make him smile a few times, and. It's just. He doesn't know. It just _hurts_.  
  
Humiliated, he leaves school. It's the first time he's ever skipped in his life.  
  
\----  
  
His mom isn't home, thank god. Blaine takes a long, hot shower and curls up in bed. A nagging part of him wonders if he should go back. He can at least make his last four classes of the day, but Kurt is in two of them, and...  
  
He can’t.  
  
Blaine looks at his bedside table where he has picture frame after picture frame filled with photos of the friends he grew up with and the friends he met at Dalton. Wes, David, Jeff and Nick, his best friends from the Warblers. He picks up his favorite, a photo from last year’s Regionals. They’d lost, but god, it had been fun. He misses them with an almost desperate ache. No one at Dalton would have done this to him, and not just because of the no harassment policy.  
  
With a sigh, Blaine puts the photo down and checks his cell phone. He sees six new messages and, a little surprised, starts going through them.  
  
 **Rachel:**  I heard about what happened! I can't believe it! Where are you now, are you okay?  
  
 **Tina:**  Blaine I'm so sorry.  
  
 **Artie:**  triple slushies are the worst yo  
  
 **Rachel:**  Did you leave school?  
  
 **Mercedes:**  oh boo. hate to say I told u so. once a jerk, always a jerk. :(  
  
 **Rachel:**  Call me later.  
  
Blaine texts them all back telling them he's fine, he'll be back tomorrow, he just couldn't rock a soaking wet multi-color stained look.  
  
In the middle of answering Rachel he gets another text from...Unknown Number?  
  
 **Text:**  shit son what did u do kurt is PISSED at u

Blaine texts back: who is this?

 **Text:** Santana obvs  
  
Moving beyond the startling fact that  _Santana Lopez_  has his phone number (the entire history of their relationship has been Santana either ridiculing him or trying to hit on him during glee club, which in and of itself is mildly terrifying), he can't believe what she's saying. What did  _he_  do to Kurt? _Him_? He hasn't done anything! Never once has he been cruel to Kurt!  
  
He texts her back: I haven't done a thing. I'M not the school bully  
  
 **S:**  watch ur back blanderson thats all i'm saying  
  
 **B:**  i don't know where it came from, but thank you for your concern  
  
 **S:**  any time stud. so what r u wearing? ;)  
  
Blaine rolls his eyes.  
  
 **B:**  bye santana  
  
 **S:**  ur no fun  
  
Blaine sighs and tosses his phone on the mattress, burying his face in his pillow. Maybe a nap will help him feel better. Only, every time he tries to clear his mind it goes back to "what did you do?" and "watch your back" and the cold look on Kurt’s face before he slushied him. He's done nothing, why should he have to watch his back?  
  
No, he's not going to watch his back. He's not going to put up with this.  
  
If Kurt Hummel wants a fight, Blaine will give it to him.  
  
\----  
   
Blaine makes sure to get to school late. He takes a different route than usual to get to homeroom just in case, and makes sure he's late for that, too. The door is open and he walks right in, not one shred of nervousness in him. He looks for Kurt, sees him right off, but first throws his group of friends a smile and a thumbs up. They look at him with wide eyes.  
  
It isn't so much him, he’s sure, but what he  _has_.  
  
Blaine walks right up to Kurt's desk. Kurt is working on something and looks up as Blaine’s shadow falls over him. Before Kurt can say a word, Blaine dumps an orange slushie over his head. It's the worst color and flavor they come in, and it's  _all_  for Kurt. Kurt gasps and sputters.  
  
" _It's on_ ," Blaine says, backing away with a smug smile. The class explodes into talking, laughter, disbelief. A few people even applaud.  
  
"Blaine Anderson!" Mr. Abela starts, but Blaine cuts him off.  
  
"Principal’s office?"  
  
" _Now_!"  
  
Blaine gives Kurt a little wave goodbye, another smile for his friends, who look both parts worried and thrilled, before finally leaving the room. Sure, he's probably going to get into trouble, and yeah, he just gave the bullies a legit reason to mess with him, but he stood up for himself and Kurt  _finally_  got a taste of his own medicine.  
  
Now if he can just ignore the small voice of guilt in the back of his mind.  
  
\----  
  
There's a reason slushies are given in the hallways. When your only witnesses are people who are too afraid of you to rat you out, and generally the people you slushie you are too afraid to rat on you, you get off scot-free. When you slushie someone in the middle of a classroom, especially with a teacher present, well, you're screwed.  
  
Blaine doesn't care. He bets Kurt and his 'friends' never had the balls, never had the  _courage,_  to play bully in a classroom like that.  
  
Figgins says he's had complaints about Kurt before, and since Blaine has otherwise been a model student, he gets detention for a week instead of suspension.  
  
Blaine secretly wishes it had been suspension. If his mother thinks he isn't getting along well at McKinley, maybe he'd be able to talk her into going back to Dalton. Is detention enough, though? He hopes it is. If not, maybe he’ll just have to join Kurt and the others in their delinquency. Not bullying anyone, but maybe just tipping over trash cans and not handing in his homework on time or something.  
  
Blaine feels wild and untethered, he feels like he can do anything.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine has gym with Kurt, Karofsky and Azimio, so it's pretty much the worst combo ever. When Kurt walks into the gymnasium, Blaine sees that he's clean and in different clothes. He's shocked Kurt didn't skip. He wonders if Kurt had to call his dad to bring him clothes, wonders what he told him.  
  
 _He deserved it_ , Blaine reminds himself.  
  
Blaine's one saving grace is that they aren't doing team sports today, they're doing basic exercise, so at least there’s no possibility of being paired up with Kurt or the others.  
  
He can't, however, avoid them in the locker room.  
  
Freshly showered, changed, and ready to go, Blaine shuts his locker, turns, and gets slammed into it. Hard. Karofsky has him pinned to the locker wall with Azimio hovering next to him. He can feel one of the locks digging into his back and winces, squirming.  
  
"Not so fast," Karofsky says. "We need to have a word."  
  
"Just one?" Blaine replies, his voice coming out slightly wheezy from the force of the shove.  
  
"New kid thinks he's funny!" Azimio says.  
  
"He won't think it's so funny when he has my fist down his throat!" Karofsky snaps.  
  
Blaine squirms, tries to get away. He'd just rather not get punched in the face is all. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he says, struggling against Karofky's hold. It only tightens.  
  
"Some  _privacy_ ," Karofsky barks, slamming him into the locker again for emphasis. He glares around the room and its remaining occupants scatter.  
  
"Better. Now, I'm gonna remind you of your place at this school." Karofsky pulls his arm back, gearing up to punch, when there's a sharp, " _David!"_  
  
Karofsky jumps a little and turns. "Oh, Hummel. Perfect timing--"  
  
Kurt's glaring at Karofsky. "What is this? You don't think I can fight my own battles?" he asks, walking into the room.  
  
Karofsky drops his hands, looking petulant. "We're just trying to teach the dork a lesson."  
  
"No, you just like to hit things," Kurt says, contemptuous. His gaze lands on Blaine, who juts his chin out, unafraid.  
  
"I'm not going to fight you," Blaine says, slowly edging his way away from Karofsky.  
  
Kurt raises an eyebrow. "And what, then, will you do?"  
  
Blaine shrugs. "Nothing." Karofsky and Azimio laugh, so Blaine continues, looking only at Kurt. "Because I like you."  
  
Kurt's expression is unreadable, but he looks away. Karofsky and Azimio are really laughing now.  
  
"Oh man, listen to this fag!" Azimio says.  
  
"Dude, Kurt, he's got a crush on you!" Karofsky laughs.  
  
"I knew he was a homo!" Azimio says.  
  
Blaine blushes in embarrassment, not for himself, but for Kurt. Kurt looks sick, trying to hide it behind an expression of anger, but Blaine knows better.  
  
"Thank you for the compliment," Blaine says calmly, looking to Karofsky and Azimio. They stop laughing, clearly confused.  
  
Azimio snorts. " _Excuse_  me?"  
  
"It's not a bad thing to be gay. I don't care if you say I am." Blaine looks back to Kurt until their eyes meet, holding his gaze for just a moment.  
  
Blaine starts to back out of the locker room, taking his time, hands in his pockets like he hasn't a care in the world. Like if he walks normally enough he won't spook any of the three boys into stopping him. "I know why you're threatened by me," he says to Karofsky and Azimio. "I understand your anger."  
  
"You hate me because I'm smart. Because I'm not a loser like the both of you," Blaine continues, pausing in the doorway. They're just  _staring_  at him. "When I graduate, I'll go to New York, to Tisch or somewhere amazing, while you'll be here, serving the good folks of Lima their McDonalds." Karofsky looks like he's about to kill him, but Blaine just smiles and strolls out the door.  
  
As soon as he turns the corner he runs. He knows he pushed his luck back there, big time, and he won't be surprised if he pays for it later. For now, though, the looks on their faces is worth it.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine doesn't see Kurt at lunch, and surprisingly enough he's left alone. He has two afternoon classes with Kurt, and is ignored in both of them. Azimio tries to kick his chair out from under him in French, but Kurt cuts him a glance and Azimio rolls his eyes and leaves Blaine alone. Kurt must have said something to them, and Blaine can't help but wonder what. And why.  
  
Wednesday is more or less the same, until after glee club.  
  
Blaine and Rachel are the last to leave, as Blaine had promised to walk her out and she'd wanted to discuss her next solo with Mr. Schue after the meeting was over. She's on his arm, extrapolating the praises of Sondheim, when Blaine looks to his car and sees Kurt leaning against it. Blaine nearly stumbles off the curb. Kurt is waiting for him.

Kurt sees him and takes his hands from his pockets, crosses his arms but doesn't otherwise move.  
  
Blaine stops in his tracks. It takes Rachel a moment to realize, and she stops talking mid-sentence. She looks from Kurt to Blaine, and jumps when someone beeps a horn.  
  
"It's my dad," she says, looking at Blaine with concern. "Do you want to come with me? Or I could stay?"  
  
Blaine glances around, but he doesn't see anyone else. He doubts that if Kurt has Karofsky or Azimio or Puck or whoever with him they'd bother to hide behind the few remaining scattered cars in the parking lot to ambush him or something.  
  
"No," he says, clearing his throat a little. "Go on, he's alone and he won't do anything to me."  
  
"How can you be sure?" Rachel asks, fingers tightening their grip on his arm.  
  
"I just am," he says, giving her a reassuring smile. "Seriously, it's okay. I promise."  
  
Rachel gazes at him, eyebrows drawn up in worry. "If you say so. Call me if  _anything_ happens, okay?"  
  
"I will." He gives her hand a squeeze.  
  
She smiles uncertainly and leans up, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. As she lowers from her tip-toes she looks over at Kurt, expression cold. One last smile to Blaine and she runs off to her dad's car.  
  
Blaine feels kind of bashful now and slowly crosses the distance to his car, and Kurt.  
  
"Don't you two make a cute couple," Kurt greets him, his comment anything but friendly.  
  
Blaine ignores it. "Are you here to get back at me?" he asks, watching Kurt's face.  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes, glances upward before settling his gaze on Blaine. "I came to talk."  
  
Blaine waits. "Well?"  
  
"I'm waiting for Berry to leave," he says, nodding his head toward her car.  
  
Blaine looks over. Rachel's sitting in the passenger seat of her dad's car, glaring at Kurt. He's touched by her concern, and smiles a little, waving her off. He can see her sigh and say something to her dad. The car slowly reverses; she gives one last wave as they leave the parking lot.  
  
Blaine looks back to Kurt when there's no sign of the car.  
  
"You could have just called," he points out, coming to stand next to Kurt.  
  
Kurt finally seems to relax some. He shrugs a shoulder. "I don't like talking on the phone much." He looks over at Blaine, smiling faintly. "My dad thinks I'm being bullied now. Ironic, isn't it?"  
  
Blaine knocks his shoulder into Kurt's.  
  
"Hey, abuse," Kurt says, smoothing a hand down his shoulder.  
  
"I wouldn't want your dad to be wrong," Blaine says. "How does the saying go? Dads are always right?"  
  
"I think that's mothers."  
  
Blaine's mouth twists momentarily. "I hope not."  
  
Kurt raises an eyebrow at him.  
  
"I'm sorry about the slushies," Kurt finally says. It comes out a bit fast, but it sounds genuine enough. He clears his throat, eyes fixed on some point across the parking lot. "I thought you were making fun of me."  
  
Blaine hardly has a chance to process the apology and frowns, confused. "When?"  
  
"At the assembly." Kurt looks toward the ground. "I thought you were getting me back for the way I treated you, and. You know I'm gay." His cheeks redden and he slants a look at Blaine, not meeting his eyes. "And you sang that song," there's a brief pause, like he's trying to find the right word, "at me? In front of everyone?"  
  
Blaine blushes, mouth parting as he realizes how it must have come off. "Oh, no. No. I only...it's just." Now  _he_  can't find the words. "You're my only friend here, aside from the people I was doing the performance with. I guess I just wanted someone to see it. My parents don't care about this sort of thing, and I don't often get to perform for someone whose opinion I care about." He knows he's rambling now, and stops. "I wasn't...I didn't pick the song."  
  
Kurt just nods, back to not looking at him. He doesn't say anything at first, and then, "You care about my opinion?"  
  
Blaine lets out a breath, glancing over. "I thought we were friends."  
  
"Well then." Kurt clears his throat and stands a little straighter. "You sounded shaky at first, pitchy during the chorus, and you make the most ridiculous faces when you sing."  
  
Blaine doesn't expect that, and it must show because Kurt sighs dramatically.  
  
"Oh I'm  _kidding_. Except for the part about the faces. You really do make ridiculous faces."  
  
Blaine mock pouts, though he can’t help but feel pleased. "You liked it?"  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes, but he's serious when he answers, meeting Blaine's gaze. "You sounded great."  
  
Blaine has to look away when he smiles, because he's afraid he's smiling too much. "Thank you."  
  
"God, you really are such a dork," Kurt says, but he's smiling, too.  
  
"Friends?" Blaine asks.  
  
"Fine. But. On the downlow. I'm having a hard enough time keeping the guys off your back after what you pulled in the locker room."  
  
"Oh my god," Blaine says, fully turning toward Kurt. "I'm  _really_ sorry about that slushie."  
  
"As you should be," Kurt says, drawing himself up and facing Blaine. "Orange, Blaine? I  _know_  that was on purpose. And I had dared to wear Paul Smith.  _Paul Smith_ , Blaine."  
  
"Don't even, I was wearing my favorite Lacoste shirt on my first day," Blaine says.  
  
"Well." Kurt huffs. "I suppose, in a way, I deserved it. A little."  
  
" _In a way_?" Blaine says, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Maybe the quadruple slushie was a bit much..."  
  
"You are a terrible person, Kurt Hummel."  
  
"And yet, you keep insisting on our friendship," Kurt counters with a smirk.  
  
"I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment."  
  
"How very masochistic of you."  
  
"You have me all figured out," Blaine says, and spins his keyring on his finger. "Want a ride home, sadist?"  
  
"I was hoping you'd say that," Kurt says, moving to the passenger side of the car. When they get inside, he continues. "I didn't think you'd forgive me."  
  
"I said I like you," Blaine points out, starting the ignition. "Not  _liked_."  
  
"Such a Hufflepuff," Kurt says, flicking the bowtie Blaine's wearing. Blaine bats his hand away and laughs.  
  
The car stereo starts up as Blaine reverses and cuts into their conversation. "-- _we will never be, never be anything but loud and nitty gritty!--"_  
  
Blaine can  _feel_ Kurt judging him.  
  
"Pink?" Kurt asks, and yep, there's the judging.  
  
"What? It's fun!" Blaine protests. Kurt starts searching the car. "Are you looking for a seat ejection button?"  
  
"I'm looking for your CDs," Kurt says, running a hand between the roof of the car and the window visor.  
  
Blaine lifts the arm rest. "Help yourself."  
  
"Thank you," Kurt says primly, and starts flipping through the sleeves. "Blaine, do you own anything that isn't played on the radio?" With a sigh he finally finds something, and switches CDs.  
  
Familiar music starts playing, and Blaine smirks, chancing a glance over at Kurt. "Kurt, do you listen to anyone other than The Beatles?"  
  
"I will smack you down like the imaginary hand of God--"  
  
" _When I was younger, so much younger than today_ ," Blaine starts to sing along, cutting Kurt off, " _I never needed anybody's help in any way_... Come on, I know you know the words."  
  
With a dramatic sigh, Kurt begrudgingly joins in, his voice starting out much quieter than Blaine's.  
  
" _Help me if you can, I'm feeling down, and I do appreciate you bein' round, help me get my feet back on the ground, won't you please, please help me_?"  
  
Gaining confidence, both of them are full-out singing by the end of the song, and jump right into The Night Before. However, as Blaine gets ready to launch into You've Got To Hide Your Love Away, Kurt skips to Ticket To Ride.  
  
At Blaine's curious look, Kurt just shrugs. "It's not a favorite." He stops any further conversation by singing. "... _She's got a ticket to ride, she's got a ticket to ride and she don't care_..."  
  
Blaine joins in, and they get through about half the song before they arrive at Kurt's house. He pulls up in front and turns the radio down as Kurt climbs out of the car.  
  
"Wait here," Kurt says, leaning against the open window for a moment before jogging up to the house and letting himself inside. He returns a minute or two later and thrusts his hand through the window. In it are several CDs. "Do yourself a favor and listen to something  _pre_ -1990, hm?"  
  
Blaine takes them with a smile. "Hey, what do you think we were just listening to?"  
  
Kurt snorts and waves a dismissive hand, backing away toward the house. " _Everyone_  likes The Beatles."  
  
"See ya, Kurt." Blaine waves.  
  
"Uh-huh. Thanks for the ride." Kurt returns the wave and turns his back, returning to his house.  
  
Blaine keeps the Beatles CD in and sings along the entire ride home, smiling.

 

\----

 

Kurt is the first to text Blaine since their fight. Blaine is filled with an odd sort of warmth, and he wonders what's wrong with him that he likes someone who is so often rude and prickly. He always takes to people fast, always assumes the best and trusts before it's earned. Kurt dented Blaine’s trust a little, but Blaine knows deep down he's already forgiven him.  
  
 **K:**  What is this hideous monstrosity on Katie Fisher's head?  
  
Blaine glances up at Kurt, sitting a few rows in front of him during French. Kurt looks over and tips his head subtly toward the girl in the aisle next to him, smirking.  
  
 **B:**  you are terrible & i'm not playing along  
  
 **K:**  But I think she's murdered a fox and a duck, sewn them together and made it into a hat. I'm concerned.  
  
 **B:**  be nice!  
  
 **K:**  But I'm against hunting. And crimes against fashion. Mostly crimes against fashion.  
  
 **B:**  and i'm against failing my french exam  
  
 **K:**  1) Aren't you the one usually bothering ME in this class? 2) It isn't an exam, it's a test. 3) Do you really need help?  
  
 **B:**  1 touche 2 still. 3 yes  
  
 **K:**  I know I'm going to regret this, but my Thomas Engel Hart boots came in the mail and I've been in a good mood ever since, so, would you like my help?  
  
 **B:**  yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :) :) :) thank you kurt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
 **K:**  How about tomorrow after school?  
  
 **B:**  i have glee club. after glee club?  
  
 **K:**  Fine. Your house or mine?  
  
 **B:**  my parents wont be home how about mine? :)  
  
 **K:**  Alright, text me your address.  
  
Blaine texts Kurt his address, unable to keep the smile off his face. Their friendship feels so much easier now, like maybe Kurt had to test how genuine Blaine was before he could really let himself  _be_  himself. Blaine can't wait to find out just who that person is.  
  
\----  
  
When Blaine pulls up into his driveway the next day, Kurt's already there, sitting in his car and waiting.  
  
"You're late," Kurt says, getting out of his truck and crossing the yard.  
  
"Sorry!" Blaine says, looking as apologetic as he can. "Rachel was talking to me about this Wicked song she wants to do and I actually knew what she was talking about because of the CD you lent me and I totally lost track of time--"  
  
The annoyance on Kurt's face dissolves. "You listened to it?"  
  
"Yeah, about ten times," Blaine says, grinning, and hops up the porch steps to unlock the door and let them in.  
  
"There's hope for you yet," Kurt says, and though it comes out snarky, Blaine can tell he's pleased.  
  
Blaine rolls his eyes and ushers Kurt inside. "Welcome to my home--" There's barking and a flurry of excitement coming from the kitchen that Kurt's staring at, wide-eyed, so Blaine leads him over. "These are my dogs. My wittol baybees," he says, breaking into baby-talk. He can't help it, it's like a disease.  
  
The two Pomeranians are bouncing up and down behind the gate keeping them out of the living room, yipping their tiny little heads off. Kurt reaches down to pet them. Or tries to, as they seem determined to be everywhere at once to lick and lick and lick.  
  
“What are their names?” Kurt asks, withdrawing his hand.  
  
Blaine steps over the gate and starts to usher his puppies toward the back door to let them outside.  
  
“My mom named them Coco and Chanel,” he says, “but one is a boy so I re-named them Lord and Lady Gaga. She doesn’t know. I may be giving them an identity complex, but they still come when I call them.”  
  
Kurt’s just staring at him.  
  
“…What? You don’t like Gaga?” Blaine asks.  
  
“No,” Kurt says, straightening, “I  _love_  Gaga.” There’s a pause followed by an amused smile.  “Are you sure you aren’t on my team, Blaine?”  
  
Blaine's eyebrows go up. "You are the  _second_  person to ask me that. Should I be worried?"  
  
Kurt grins, teasingly. "Maybe."  
  
"To be honest, I--"  
  
Kurt's grin fades, and Blaine can feel Kurt’s eyes like a weight on him.  
  
"Nevermind," Blaine says quickly, returning back over the gate. Kurt doesn’t move much, so he has to squeeze past him, and for some reason it feels more awkward than it should. "You know, that's unfair stereotyping, by the way."  
  
"No, you're right. Sorry," Kurt says, looking genuinely apologetic.  
  
Blaine smiles. "I forgive you. Come on, then, let's go up to my room."  
  
There's hesitation, and then Kurt seems to perk up. "Can I look through your clothes?"  
  
\----  
  
The thing is, sometimes Blaine isn't sure if he knows just what he is. He doesn't think he's gay, but there were some moments at Dalton when he found himself watching some of the other boys. He never thought too hard on it, after all, he was surrounded by boys  _all the time_. He didn't go out much, he didn't know many girls, so it was just...they were just  _there_.  
  
He doesn't think about people like that, really. He just doesn't.  
  
His eyes drift to Kurt's ass as the other boy leafs through the shirts in his closet, trying to gauge if he’s interested or not, but he just gets embarrassed and looks away.  
  
God, he's going to be a virgin until he's forty.  
  
"What's wrong with you?"  
  
Blaine looks up to find Kurt looking at him. "Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm-- did you find anything you like?"  
  
"Well," Kurt says, holding a dress shirt up to himself. "I don't think you are particularly fashion-minded, but you do have some very fine things." He drops down in front of where Blaine's sitting on his bed, and takes his hand. "Blaine, my dearest friend. Can I borrow this?"  
  
Kurt's looking at him with such a funny, doe-eyed expression that Blaine can't help but laugh. "That? Sure."  
  
Kurt lets out a tiny squeal and stands, setting the shirt by his backpack.  
  
"Okay, French." Kurt takes his books and notes from his backpack and starts setting up a study area at Blaine's desk. He pulls up a second chair and sits, patting the one next to him. "Viens là mon petit avocat."  
  
"...Did you just call me your little avocado?"  
  
" _Very_  good!" Kurt smiles.  
  
Kurt goes over their homework, the chapter, the vocabulary. Kurt makes Blaine repeat every word and sentence, correcting him when his pronunciation is off and praising him when he gets it right. He drills him with flashcards and creates phrases for Blaine to read and translate. Kurt is a great tutor and seems to have a grasp of the language that extends far beyond their class.  
  
When Blaine is supposed to be reading and familiarizing himself with the text, he notices Kurt looking at the photos on his desk.  
  
"They're from Dalton," Blaine says.  
  
"Hm?" Kurt seems to come back to himself. "Your old school? Oh, of course. You miss your friends?"  
  
Blaine frowns, his gaze moving from one photo to the next. "Yeah," he says, quiet. "Especially Wes and David." He motions to a picture of the three of them taken after Sectionals during his sophomore year. "They were my best friends for three years."  
  
"Aren't they still?" Kurt asks.  
  
"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course. It's just tough, Westerville is hours away, and mom pitches a fit every time I ask if I can take the car out there. That leaves the phone and the computer," Blaine says, trying to keep his mood from dropping.  
  
 "Still..." Kurt looks at the photos for a long time, and Blaine almost thinks the conversation is over, when Kurt speaks back up. "I would hate to have to wear a uniform."  
  
"Don't you, though?" Blaine asks, the words out of his mouth before he has a chance to think them through.  
  
"What do you mean?" Kurt's asks.  
  
Blaine shifts uneasily, but continues. "You don't wear the clothes you  _really_  want to wear to school. Probably hardly at all."  
  
Kurt doesn't look pleased, his mouth forming a tight line and shoulders going tense. He looks at Blaine down his nose, which Blaine knows is a bad sign. "Do you want to pass your French test, or not?"  
  
"Yes," Blaine says, returning his attention back to his book. If Kurt doesn't want to admit he's making things awful for himself, then that's his prerogative.  
  
By the time they end the lesson, the tension seems to have slowly seeped away. Blaine feels much better about his chances on the test, grateful for Kurt's help. Kurt declines his offer to stay for dinner and leaves after Blaine tries to convince him to duet on his karaoke machine.

When Kurt leaves, the house is quiet and still. Blaine is used to being alone, it’s not always a bad thing. Truth be told, most of the time it’s preferable to spending time with his parents. But  _this_  time Blaine feels ridiculously and inexplicably lonely. Maybe Kurt bringing up Wes and David hit him harder than he thought. He has friends here, especially Rachel, and now Kurt. But they're all new friendships, and the glee club already seems to have their own cliques that he doesn't feel as though he's truly a part of yet. And Kurt. He thinks he can count Kurt as a friend now, even if only when they're alone. Even if Kurt still feels like a mystery to him.

\----

It’s two a.m. when Kurt texts him. Three texts in a row, otherwise Blaine probably wouldn’t have woken up to get them in the first place.

**K:**  heu

**K:**  blane a

**K:**  blaine

Blaine stares blearily at his phone, willing Kurt’s texts to make sense.

**B:**  did u sit on ur phone? its 2am kurt wtf

He can’t even bother trying to figure out how to type words, still barely awake. Kurt takes so long to reply that Blaine almost falls back asleep.

**K:**  at puckks party

Blaine does _not_  care about Puck’s party, feels such a flare of annoyance that he can’t even explain, and slaps his phone down on his bedside table, turning in bed to resume the really nice dream he’d been having. He’s almost there when his phone starts ringing.

“I am going to kill you,” Blaine groans, fumbling for his cell. It’s loud on the other end and he holds the phone away from his ear. “…Kurt?”

“Blaine! I needed to talk to you!” Kurt yells. His words are slurred, which pretty much explains everything.

Blaine winces. “At two in the morning?”

“It’s  _Friday_ , Blaine. Oh my  _god_.”

“I still need sleep, oh my  _god_ ,” Blaine mimics, because Kurt’s seriously going to wake him up and then make him try to feel lame?

“I’m at a party! You wanna come?”

“Uh, no thanks, Kurt, Puck and I don’t exactly get along.” Blaine fails to keep the acidic tone from his voice, too tired to care.

“Oh yeah…oh, Blaine! I needed to call you. I called…I called ‘cause I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I’m  _really_  sorry I slushied you.”

Blaine rolls onto his back, rubbing at one eye. “Kurt, I know. We went over this already.”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause. Blaine can hear booming music and loud voices, and briefly wonders how much Puck’s neighbors hate him.

“Kurt?”

“I just wanted you to  _know_ , y’know?”

“Okay, Kurt. Thank you.”

“We’re friends, right?”

Blaine smiles a little, even if Kurt is being completely annoying. “Yeah, Kurt. We’re friends.”

There’s another long pause, and Blaine’s about to speak up when Kurt suddenly exclaims, “There’s people having sex  _right_  next to me.”

“—Uh…”

“Gotta go.”

Kurt hangs up, just like that, and Blaine is left staring at his phone wondering what the hell. Blaine supposes it was sweet of Kurt to apologize again, though, even if while drunk, maybe especially while drunk. He burrows back down into his blankets and pillows to fall back asleep, smiling to himself.

\----

Blaine doesn’t see Kurt that weekend, but doesn’t push it, not knowing quite what this friendship _is_  yet. Monday morning Blaine slips Kurt a coffee in homeroom, hopefully without anyone noticing, “for my alcoholic friend” scrawled across the side in Sharpie. He was listening to the Dresden Dolls on the way to school and he couldn’t help himself. Kurt smiles in thanks, but neither the topic of the party or the two a.m. phone call comes up.

  
Blaine finds out that Kurt's been having trouble in his Trigonometry class, and their tutoring sessions suddenly become mutually beneficial. They meet at each other’s houses, taking turns between the two. Blaine loves Kurt's house. Mostly he likes when Burt makes dinner, or they help Burt make dinner and he gets to eat over. Dinner at Blaine’s house is always formal and quiet, but it's quite the opposite at the Hummel household. Though it's just the three of them, they never seem to run out of things to talk about. Kurt and his father feel like a real family, like how real fathers and sons should be. Blaine is admittedly jealous, kind of lives vicariously through Kurt when he comes over. Not that he'll ever say so.

He can’t remember the last time his father said anything to him that wasn’t required. But it’s always been this way. Despite Blaine’s many attempts to please his parents, he doesn’t measure up to whatever predetermined idea they had of a son. Straight A’s, lead soloist of the Warblers, always well-groomed, always on time, mannerly and polite. None of it makes much of a difference.

Burt says things to him like, good job on the lentils, they don’t taste like paste for once; Kurt told me you got an A on your French test, good job; thanks for helping bring in the groceries; thanks for helping with the dishes; thanks for helping Kurt with math, I never went as high as Trigonometry in high school. Blaine soaks up Burt’s praise without dwelling on it, just knows if he has the choice, he will choose Kurt’s house over his every time.

Tutoring soon becomes  _hanging out_ , and Blaine finally gets Kurt to try out his karaoke machine. They sound good together, really good, but when Blaine tries to bring it up, Kurt rebuffs him. If Blaine tries to make it into anything other than nothing, Kurt will stop or Kurt will leave, and Blaine wonders just how many things Kurt denies himself in the name of pride.

\----

Blaine is about to send Kurt a text to see if he wants to do something after school. Just as he's typing 'Do you,' a notification flashes over his screen for a new text.

  
**Tina:**  Rachel got slushied! Can you bring her things from her locker to the girls bathroom on the 2nd floor by the art room? locker combo 5-19-3

His jaw drops.  _Kurt?_  Blaine sends a quick text back and changes the direction he was walking. It's between periods so it takes him a little longer to get Rachel's spare clothes and up to the bathroom.

"I can't believe him," Blaine says, pushing the door open. Tina's with Rachel at the sink, who's dripping blue all over herself and the floor. "I can't believe he did this to you!"

Rachel shivers and takes the towel from him with a grateful smile. It turns bitter as she answers. "Why not? They've always done this to me."

"It was Karofsky," Tina says, helping Rachel rinse the syrup from her hair.

Blaine pauses, feeling bad for jumping to the conclusion that it had been Kurt. Still, though, that Kurt lets this  _happen_. "Man, I'd really like to just--" He clamps down on his own thoughts, keeping them to himself.

"Blaine, no, you'll just get yourself hurt. It's fine. I'm used to it," Rachel says, looking as resigned as she sounds. "Go ahead to class. There's no reason for all three of us to be late."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, go. Thank you for bringing me my clothes." She makes a shooing motion, and Blaine reluctantly leaves the restroom.

He's late to French, and gives Kurt a good long glare as he walks into the room. Kurt's expression seems to say  _what's your problem?_ , but Blaine ignores him and sits. All through class Blaine's anger grows, and as soon as the bell rings he stalks out of the room.

Kurt, perhaps surprisingly, catches up with him, tries to pull him aside where it isn't crowded and stop him. "What is your _deal_?" Kurt asks, as though  _he_  has a right to be angry.

"What is  _my_  deal?  _Mine_?" Blaine jabs a finger at Kurt's chest. "You and  _your_   _friends_  slushied Rachel. I asked you not to!"

Kurt looks downright affronted and pushes Blaine's hand away. "I didn't do anything!"

"You're still one of them."

Kurt glares like he wants to burn twin holes right through Blaine’s head. " _And?_ "

"You like them, don't you?" Blaine barrels on. "You hang out with them outside of school. You don't have to, but you do!"

"I thought you understood me," Kurt says, his voice unusually low.

Blaine stops, because, though he's felt like Kurt's begun to trust him, here's the first real admittance. And Blaine does, he does understand Kurt, at least mostly. He just doesn't agree with it. He's tired of this bully act. What's worse is that Kurt actually gets along with Karofsky and the others, even if just a little. It makes Blaine furious in a way he can't explain.

"I do," Blaine says. Amends. "I want to."

"I can't control them, Blaine," Kurt says, jaw muscles clenched. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep them from  _killing_  you?"

Blaine swallows. "You could get them to stop--"

"They would turn on me. In a heartbeat. And then the both of us would be screwed, and not in a  _fun_  way." Kurt's words have bite, and he steps back. "I have to go to class."

And just like that, he disappears down the staircase.

Blaine glances around, but the hallway has cleared, more or less. There's a hallowed out feeling in his chest, and he walks dejectedly toward his next class.

\----

Rachel's waiting for him at his locker after the last class of the day.

"Hey, Rach," Blaine says with a smile, "what's up?" He spins the lock and opens his locker, still looking at her.

"Blaine Warbler," Rachel starts, adopting Brittany's nickname for him. "I was wondering if you had a date to Homecoming."

Blaine blinks. "I-- no. I hadn't even thought about it. We didn't have Homecoming at Dalton."

"It's only the most important dance, second to prom!" Rachel says, looking up at him with her own brand of intensity. "And, well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me..."

"What about Finn?" Blaine asks, voice gentle. At the mention of his name, she looks so fragile and sad that he wishes he could take it back.

It's only a fleeting look. Rachel seems to gather herself up. "He's going with Quinn, of course. I'm over it, I can't wait around for him forever. He's not worth the heartache." She glances down. "And...I like you."

Blaine knows he's blushing. He doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He dated two, briefly, from Dalton's neighboring school - Crawford Country Day. His first girlfriend, Jennifer, was nice enough. They saw a movie on their first date, and she'd even kissed him good night, but he just wasn't that interested, and he thought she could probably tell because she ended up dumping him. The second was this past summer, but not long after they’d started dating he found out his family was transferring, so he broke up with her. He figured it was better to just cut ties before they fell in love. Or whatever.

So yeah, he kind of sucks at dating. He likes the idea of it, he just feels so awkward when it's actually happening.

He does like Rachel, though. She's nice and they have fun. And he  _does_  like dancing...

"Sure," Blaine says, smiling again.

"Really?" Rachel's whole face lights up. Blaine feels a rush of happiness that he can have that effect on anyone, and feels his own smile widen. "Alright," she says, taking his arm, "I'll call you this weekend with the details of my dress so we can coordinate for the wrist corsage and boutonniere, and we can take your car, right? My dads will probably want to take lots of pictures, so don't be scared! And I think everyone in glee wants to meet up before or after for food, okay?"

"Yes?"

"Perfect! See you later, Blaine!" Rachel leans up to kiss him on the cheek and traipses down the hallway. Blaine watches her go, and spots Kurt walking the opposite way. Kurt gives Rachel a dirty look when she passes. Blaine tries to subtly wave Kurt down.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but leans up against the wall near Blaine. "What do you want?"

Blaine fiddles with the dial on his locker. "Sorry for acting like a jerk earlier," he says, and means it. He glances over to look at Kurt.

"Fine. I'm sorry your manic, librarian, schoolgirl  _friend_  got slushied," Kurt says, not sounding sorry at all, really.

Blaine gives Kurt a frank look. "No you aren't."

"Well, maybe not," Kurt admits. "But I'm sorry it upset you?"

Blaine rolls his eyes, pulls his Calc book from his locker, and heads down the hallway. Kurt falls into step. Not too close, though.

"I'm taking her to homecoming."

Kurt's mouth opens a moment, but nothing comes out. Blaine can't read his expression, but can clearly tell his reaction is not a good one. "What a perfectly short couple you'll make."

"Just because you don't like her--"

"No, I mean it. You're very suited for each other," Kurt interjects. "Dark features, similar height, very well-to-do families. Mutual friends. The--" He waves a hand.  "Singing. Finn. You're both two of the most irritating people I've ever met. It's perfect."

Blaine can tell Kurt isn't happy, even if he's trying to sound like he's teasing, but he doesn't understand why. "Finn?"

"Nothing."

"You could come with us, if you want," Blaine tries.

Kurt stops to stare at him. "Yes, that would be fun. Let me just go find a girl I can pretend to like so I can dance around like an idiot in a gym full of people I  _hate_ \--"

"Maybe there's a guy--"

"Oh, okay, I'll just play a nice game of gay Pokemon--"

"Geez, Kurt. What the hell is your  _problem_?" Blaine snaps.

"Nevermind, Blaine. You wouldn't get it," Kurt says. " _Clearly_."

Kurt gets like this sometimes, rude and snarly, and it always seems to come out of nowhere. Usually Blaine can charm Kurt out of his bad mood, he just wishes he knew what caused it, because half the time he has no idea.

Blaine lets out a long breath. "Just..." He grabs Kurt's hand to pull him down the stairs after him.

" _What are you doing_?" Kurt all but screeches, yanking his hand away.

"I'm trying to take you to a movie!" Blaine says.

A few people passing by look curiously toward them. Two girls giggle and descend the stairs with their heads tilted close together, whispering.

Kurt’s face is red, eyebrows drawn, mouth in an exaggerated frown. He looks like he's a volcano on the verge of erupting. "You have lost your mind," he grits out.

"Going to the movies is  _not_  that crazy, Kurt. Maybe you need to get out more--"

" _I hate you_ ," Kurt says, and he's moving again. "I hate you more than anyone."

"Really? Even Hitler?"

"Hitler doesn't  _stalk_  me."

"I'm not stalking you!" Blaine says, following him. "Have you gotten creepy notes in your locker? Flowers on your desk? Breathy phone calls in the middle of the night?"

"No, but I'm sure that's the next step."

Actually, it  _does_  sound kind of funny...

Blaine hurries to catch up. "Don't be mad, Kurt."

"I mean it when I say I hate you," Kurt says, walking briskly.

"More than gym class?"

"Yes."

"More than Wednesday Bean and Burrito Day?"

"Yes."

"More than when you go to a restaurant and you see this old guy sitting alone and you know his wife probably died and he's alone and lonely?"

"Yes."

"More than Karofsky?"

"Yes."

"...Ouch."

Kurt's still walking with him, though.

"Well, I have a secret for you," Blaine says. Kurt doesn't respond, so he continues. "You're my favorite."

Kurt stops walking and looks at him for a long moment. "Look, if I agree to go to this movie with you, will you  _shut up_? You can't talk during a movie, right?"

Blaine smiles sweetly, rocking back on his heels. "I'll even buy you popcorn."

"You're going to have to do better than that if you expect me to put out, Anderson," Kurt says, heading out to the parking lot.

Blaine's eyes widen a moment and again he hurries to catch up. "What?"

"I don't put out on a first date unless it's spectacular," Kurt says.

Judging by the amount of blushing he's doing, and the amount of smirking Kurt is doing...Kurt is teasing him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine says, and tries to come across like he means it.

Kurt makes a rude gesture with his fingers.

"Are you trying to imply we should churn butter together?" Blaine asks, feigning innocence.

"Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?" Kurt quips.

"Hey Hummel! What are you doing with that homo?"

Blaine's eyes shoot up in surprise and meet Karofsky's.  _Of course_. Kurt looks ready to kill.

"I'm about to fuck him up the ass, what do you think?" Kurt shouts back, poised, a look of cold fury on his face.

"Have fun, ladies!" Karofsky hollers.

"Not as much fun as you'll be having at the Pick 'N Save, I'm sure!" Kurt flips Karofsky off and climbs into his truck. He reverses and drives off without another word to Blaine.

Blaine glances back at Karofsky, but he's talking to another football player. Blaine's relieved, to tell the truth, and makes his way across the parking lot to his own car.

Ten minutes later Blaine gets a text from Kurt.

_Pick me up at 6. Wear something nice._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't heard Video Games by Lana Del Rey, please check it out on youtube in regards to this chapter!

Kurt seems to chill out about the whole homecoming thing, and even insists he help pick out Blaine's suit. Blaine's mother buys it for him, because if there's one thing that's never lacking around the Anderson household, it's money. She even has it tailored. Sometimes he almost falls for this, these rare acts of kindness, mistaking them for real maternal affection, but he knows it's far more likely that she just enjoys flaunting their income.

Blaine picks Rachel up at seven. He's been to her house before and met her dads, so at least there isn't any real added pressure. Just the five hundred pictures Rachel warned him about, and The Talk about taking care of their little girl. Blaine is pretty sure he's blushing the entire time. Rachel looks like her smile might just break her face.

The gym is suitably crowded by the time they arrive, and after some Marco Polo via text message, they find the members of glee club who are already there, taking up most of a large, round table. There's a chorus of greetings and compliments about how amazing everyone looks. It's such a flurry of excitement that Blaine almost forgets to pull Rachel's chair out for her. When he does, the entire female population of the table  _ooh_ s as if on some hidden cue.

"Now you're makin' us look bad," Artie says.

“Well, general courtesy aside, I did take an etiquette class when I was younger,” Blaine says, charming smile and all.

Everyone gives him a blank stare.

“They actually have those?” Mercedes asks.

Blaine can feel himself blushing from the way everyone is looking at him. “My parents like to feel like they're important.”

“My parents work for NASA,” Brittany says out of nowhere, and just like that the attention is blessedly off Blaine, because what the hell?

Conversation flows easily after that, sometimes involving the entire table, more often breaking into smaller groups. Blaine is slightly intrigued by Mercedes' boyfriend, as he’s the only one of the group who isn’t a member of New Directions. When Blaine brings this up, the table starts telling him about all their inter-dating, which in turn leads to their mash-up names.

He fights for Rain because it’s actually a word, and sounds kind of poetic, but he and Rachel are apparently Blainchel.

Blaine is having fun mashing his name with everyone (Merlain, Bike, Blinn) when Rachel hears a song she likes and drags him to the dance floor. It’s an 80’s song by Human League that he likes it, too. They don’t leave the dance floor for a long time. This wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, Blaine loves to dance and he’s fairly good at it, it’s when the slow songs come on that everything goes wrong for him.

Slow dancing is easy, just hold each other close and sway in a circle, that isn’t the problem. But, it’s...boring, and _that_  is the problem. Blaine can’t be one hundred percent sure, but he is under the impression that when you like someone and you get to hold them close and sway in a circle it should be exciting. Not rock-climbing exciting or anything, but that inward sort of thrill. The kind where every touch tingles and your heart beats too fast. Blaine has never experienced it, but knows it has to exist. There are too many books and poems and songs that describe that very feeling to be wrong.

He was hoping he’d experience it tonight.

_“…Ohh, my love, my darling, I’ve hungered, hungered for your touch, a long, lonely time…”_

One of the most romantic songs in existence, and all Blaine feels while dancing to it with Rachel is friendly affection.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine pulls up into Rachel's driveway and walks her to the door. He's filled with a sense of foreboding, like he's entering dangerous territory. It worsens when she turns toward him, hands going to his waist, face upturned and smiling.

"I had a lot of fun tonight, Blaine. Thanks for taking me," she says.

"Me too," he says, trying to match her smile. He isn't sure if he succeeds.

Rachel's staring at him expectantly, and he knows what she's waiting for. It's his cue, and he can't think of a solid reason not to. So he does it, he kisses her. Leans in, closes his eyes, and presses his mouth softly against hers.

He doesn't feel anything beyond the touch of her lips, except maybe guilt. He knew this would happen, didn’t want to admit it, but he knew one dance wouldn’t change anything. Not a dance or a kiss. All he has ever seen when he’s looked at Rachel has been a friend. There’s certainly nothing wrong with her, she’s beautiful and sweet and funny and that’s the _worst_  part. She really is perfect for him, but no matter what he does, he just can't make himself like her that extra little bit.

Blaine hopes she feels the same. That maybe she was trying, too, but that he just isn't Finn.

When he pulls back he can't tell. Rachel leans back in and kisses his cheek. "Good night," she murmurs.

"Good night," he repeats, standing there stupidly as she lets herself inside.

He wonders if this means they’re dating now, and trudges back to his car, hoping not.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine is about three minutes away from his house when he gets a text from Kurt.

 **K:** weher r u? >

Oh, great.

Blaine pulls the car over in front of someone's house and calls Kurt. He is so not spending the evening deciphering drunk texts.

Loud noise erupts from the other line, and Blaine winces.

"Hello? Blaine, s'at you?" He thinks he hears Kurt giggle.

"Yes. Where are you?" Blaine asks.

"Miss you," Kurt says, all warm-like, and Blaine glances around like there's anyone else who may have heard.

"Um. Okay, but. What do you want? Do you need me to pick you up, or something?" Blaine asks, all but shouting into the phone to be heard on the other end.

There's a very long pause. "What?" Kurt shouts.

"I said. Do. You. Need. Me. To. Pick. You. Up?" Blaine shouts back.

"Oh! Yes! Yes, come get me, Blaine!" Kurt's laughing again, and there are voices he can't quite make out. "I'm at Club Rush! Ummm! It's-- do you have a fake ID? Tell the bouncer you're with Puck, he'll let you in!"

Kurt hangs up after that, on purpose or not Blaine isn't sure. He has no idea what Club Rush is, but a quick google maps check pulls it up as twenty minutes away.

Well, isn't this a perfect end to a perfectly awful night?  
  
\----  
  
Blaine maybe should have changed before showing up at Club Rush.

As it is, he skips the line in his suit (minus the boutonniere) and hopes that being so well dressed will make him look more mature.

"Are you kidding me?" the bouncer says, all ten foot eight of him, as he looks Blaine up and down. Or rather down and down.

"I'm here to see Puck." At the bouncer's blank stare, Blaine tries, "Puck sent me?"

Maybe this is the wrong bouncer...

"Kid, you better work on blending in. I'm not getting my ass in trouble for that punk again, even if he is my nephew," the bouncer says, ushering Blaine in, making him stumble a little.

"Thanks?" Blaine squeaks, but the bouncer's attention is already back to the line.

The place is  _loud_. Loud, dark, and packed with people. Oh, this is just awesome. The phrase “needle in a haystack” has never applied more than in this moment. How does Kurt expect Blaine to find him?

Blaine's trying to text Kurt to meet up, when a girl starts grinding on him, and maybe if the strobe lights shine in his eyes just a few more times they'll blind him and he can pretend this isn't happening--

"You are so! Cute!" she yells against his ear.

"No thank you!" Blaine says, trying to be heard over Ke$ha, to move on and text at the same time.

But no. Still with the grinding. Now her arms are around his shoulders and he hates Kurt so much.

Blaine manages to text Kurt, even without having discovered how to disentangle the girl:  _where r u? im being atacked save me! ! im near teh front still ttoward the rt._ He really hopes Kurt isn't too drunk to follow directions.

He doesn't get an answer. When the Ke$ha song transforms into Jennifer Lopez's On The Floor he's about to text again, and then the girl is turning her head, looking at a face attached to a Kurt-like body. Oh, it  _is_  Kurt. Except he looks half undressed and flushed and sweaty  _and jesus christ_ , Blaine can't even.

" _Hey_ , geddoff!" Kurt says, and stops repeatedly tapping her on the back, taking her instead by the shoulders to move her away.

"Excuse me?" the girl is shrieking, but before Blaine can step in, Kurt drapes himself on Blaine and waves her away. "Mine."

Blaine literally has to grab Kurt's waist to keep from falling over. "Sorry?" Blaine calls when the girl storms off. She yells something probably super derogatory, though, so he doesn't care so much if Kurt insulted her.

"Hi," Kurt says brightly, getting Blaine's attention back on him. "Why're you here? I found a  _boy_. A boy who is  _gay_."

"Oh. Um. Well, you told me to," Blaine starts explaining, feeling foolish and more than a little irritated. "Do you want me to--"

"Come meet him!" Kurt says, grabbing Blaine's hand and pulling him around and through the crowd, toward the back corner. All around the room there are couches, chairs, and tables set up near the bars. They're garish purples and reds and Kurt drags Blaine right over to one of them. A tall man with dark features has draped himself along one of the couches, likely to save it, a drink in each hand. He smiles when Kurt approaches, and spares a lingering look at Blaine. It's kind of frightening; the guy looks like he wants to eat him up.

"Welcome back, baby. You found your friend," the guy says, sitting up and holding out the drinks. "I took it upon myself to get you both a round."

"You are  _sooo_  nice," Kurt says and  _crawls into his lap_ , bumping the guy's arm and spilling some of one of the drinks on his pants. Kurt doesn't even notice. "Give 'em to Blaine 'n he can catch up!"

Blaine suddenly has two glasses in his hands so Kurt and this guy can kiss. Blaine just stands there and stares, because he's never seen a guy kiss another guy, and he's _never_  seen Kurt like this. His hands tighten around the drinks, wanting to upturn them right over this sleazy jerk's head because he's kissing Kurt like...like-- it is just  _not_  okay--

"Come on, c'mon," Kurt's saying, pulling away and trying to stand. His shirt is untucked, collar opened and unbuttoned. "I wanna dance."

"Whatever you want, baby," douchebag says, letting Kurt lead him onto the dance floor.

Blaine sits down on the couch and watches them dance. He wants badly to pull Kurt away, carry him out of this place or something stupid like that. But he can't. Kurt is lonely, and Kurt probably really likes this guy and he'll hate Blaine if he makes him leave. So Blaine sits tight and forces whatever drink douchebag handed him down his throat, convincing himself that the burn in his stomach is from the drink and nothing else.

He watches them dance. Three different girls approach him while he works on his second drink, but he waves them all away. Has to physically _move_  one from his lap when she invites herself onto it. He doesn't want to dance, he doesn't want to make out with someone random. He has to make sure this guy doesn't take advantage of Kurt.

At what seems like the twentieth Britney remix, Kurt starts staring at Blaine over douchebag's shoulder while they dance. Blaine stares back until he feels uncomfortable. He’s a little tipsy from the alcohol, he's sweaty from his suit, and anger has been building since he stepped through the door. He doesn't know what Kurt's trying to say, because there has to be a point to his staring, so Blaine decides it means he wants Blaine to save him.

Blaine gets unsteadily to his feet and weaves through a few people to get to Kurt and his douchey boyfriend. Blaine puts a hand on the guy's shoulder and tries to move him.

"I want to dance," Blaine announces.

Douchebag turns, looking predatorily amused with Blaine's sudden appearance. "Sure, I'll dance with you, sweetheart."

Blaine frowns. "Not you," he says loudly, trying to be heard over the music. "Him." He points to Kurt.

" _We-ll_ ," douchebag says, affronted.

Blaine doesn't even wait for anyone's agreement, just moves his body until it's between them.

"You really wanna?" Kurt yells over the music.

"It's Madonna! I like this song!" Blaine says.

"'I'm A Slave 4 U?,'" Kurt says and laughs. He shrugs and continues dancing. Really dancing. Right up against Blaine. Blaine glances over his shoulder to look for douchebag, wondering where he went, and doesn't stop looking until he spots him at the bar. At least he got rid of him. For now.

Of course, now he's on the dance floor with his best friend rubbing up against him like a cat while Britney moans and pants, the bass so heavy he can feel it vibrating through his shoes.

Kurt's shirt sticks to his skin from sweat, shucked up a little, his hair is a tousled mess, face still pink from exertion and alcohol. He turns until his back is to Blaine, grabbing Blaine's hands and interlocking their fingers.

"Kurt--" Blaine's mouth parts, but nothing else comes out as Kurt starts dancing close. _Really_ close. Blaine wasn't even aware hips could move like this, like they're a separate entity from Kurt's body. Worse, it feels good. Really good.  _Not because it's Kurt_. It could be anyone. Friction against a guy's dick is kind of a universal turn-on, right?

It's too hot, too loud, he's too dizzy so he closes his eyes halfway and tips his head forward, face pressed to Kurt's neck. He's turned on and he knows he should move away, but he can't. Right now his legs feel like lead and Kurt's so nice and soft and easy to lean on.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder and he's sent stumbling backwards, eyes flying open.

"Song's over!" It's douchebag, stepping into Blaine's spot behind Kurt. Blaine yelps, and he'd say something else, but he almost knocks someone over. He apologizes to them and looks back to Kurt.

"--don't want to!" Kurt's yelling.

"So you're just a fucking cocktease?" douchebag's saying, too close to Kurt.

Whatever's happening doesn't sound very friendly, so Blaine makes his way back over. "He doesn't want to!" he yells, even if he doesn't know what exactly Kurt just said no to. Whatever it is, douchebag doesn't want to hear it.

"You again?" douchebag yells. "What is your  _deal_? I was here first!"

" _I_  had Kurt first!" Blaine yells back. "And by the way, he's seventeen and if you don't back off I'll have you arrested for...for being a pedophile!"

" _Excuse_  me?"

Blaine grabs Kurt's hand and leads him toward the door. They should have left a long time ago. Kurt doesn't fight it, hand gripping Blaine's like a vice. He's saying something, but Blaine can't hear it over the music.

The cool night air hits Blaine like a tangible thing. He feels underwater at first with the music muted and the wind all around him, so much so that his hand tightens around Kurt's as though he might otherwise float away.

"I got you," Blaine says.

Kurt giggles and drapes himself halfway along Blaine's back. "That was fun."

"What about that was  _fun_?" Blaine says, pausing to look over at Kurt. "You're so stupid, Kurt! That guy was a creep! Who knows what he wanted to do to you?"

Kurt pushes himself off Blaine, nearly teetering over. "So what? I have to be lonely forever?"

"I didn't say--"

"'Cause it's not like I got a lot of options!  _Finn's_  straight,  _Puck's_  straight,  _yo_ \--"

"-- _Puck_?" Blaine screeches.

"His mohawk's sexy!"

Blaine makes a face. He doesn't even know where to start.

"Oh, don't be so fucking judgmental, Blaine,  _you_  wanna fuck  _Rachel Berry_!"

"I do  _not_  want to...do that with Rachel Berry," Blaine protests, going red in the face.

"You spend all your time with her, you go to dances with her, you look at her  _aaaaall_ the time," Kurt starts in.

"If you don't shut up I'll leave you here!"

"Fine, then leave me here!"

Blaine just glares at him. Kurt glares back.

...And bursts out laughing.

"Your eyebrows are like little triangles," Kurt says, giggling.

"Yeah, well." Blaine's gaze darts around Kurt's face, looking for some flaw. "Your skin is really pale!"

"I'm pretty like a porcelain doll," Kurt preens, giving an unsteady twirl.

"I'm leaving," Blaine announces.

"Me too!" Kurt says, and grabs the waistline of Blaine's pants like reins to a horse, merrily following him.

It takes three tries for Blaine to unlock his car, and five minutes to get Kurt out of the drivers seat and convince him no, he can't drive, they will both die. Finally they're on the road, when Blaine realizes something.

"...Wait. Where am I taking us? I can't bring you to my house like this, my parents are home - and your dad will kill you."

"Shit, you're right," Kurt says. "Dad's gonna be  _piiiiiissed_! Oh, Blaine! Oh! Trade places with me! Please? Like in that...in that Macauly Culkin movie! Twins!"

"That does not exist. And I look nothing like you."

"You have a point. You're too short."

"I am not short!" Blaine says.

Kurt's studying his nails. He coughs discreetly. "Prettyshort."

"You're a mean drunk."

"...And you almost just drove into the curb. Can you please just drive? We can go to my house and sneak in my window. Like ninjas," Kurt whispers.

"Boozy ninjas. Awesome."

Blaine parks a few houses down from the Hummel residence, just in case. He demands the keys to Kurt’s house because it will be impossible for them to climb into a second story window. They’ll just have to be very,  _very_  quiet.

Kurt isn't so drunk that he's falling over or anything, but through Blaine's own buzzed state he can tell Kurt is more careless than usual. He doesn't want either of them to get caught, so he bodily walks Kurt through the door, closing it with the softest click possible. He waits and listens. Nothing happens, so he walks them to the staircase.

Blaine feels Kurt slip from his hold and hears him fall with a thump once they’re at the top of the stairs. He winces, hoping Burt is a heavy sleeper.

This has not been Blaine's best night.  
  
\----  
  
Kurt refuses to get off the floor. The state of his drunkenness is bordering on ridiculous. It takes some effort, but Blaine finally gets Kurt to stand up. Kurt leans on him and giggles against his neck, sending little tickling shivers along Blaine's skin. He is relieved to finally get to Kurt’s bedroom and dump Kurt on the bed.

"Blaine, Blaine, let's sing, Blaine. Let's sing...please?" Kurt asks, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Uhh..." Blaine rubs his forehead a minute. "I think it's like three am. And your dad, remember?"

"That man could sleep through the apocalypse," Kurt says, waving a hand in dismissal.

"M'kinda tired..."

Kurt gasps. "No, Blaine. No. I want to do a mash-up! Of Umbrella and...that Beyonce song. It's here..." He stumbles over to his iPod dock, flipping through songs.

Suddenly music sounds from the speakers. It's certainly not Rihanna or Beyonce.

"This isn't it," Kurt says, confused; then a second later, "I love this song!"

He grabs his brush and holds it like a microphone, crawling onto the bed, crossing it to get to the side Blaine's nearest. Blaine doesn't move, afraid if he sits down he'll fall asleep and then a drunken Kurt will beat him with the brush to wake him up.

A female voice starts to sing, slow and sultry, and Kurt sings over her, sounding much the same.

_"Swingin' in the back yard_   
_Pull up in your fast car_   
_Whistlin' my name..."_

Kurt's free hand traces an invisible pattern in the air, eyes closed, face tilted to the side as he sings. When Kurt's eyes opens, they find Blaine and he crooks a finger. Blaine smiles a little, feeling dizzy, and comes as close as he can, legs pressed against the edge of the mattress. Kurt smiles slowly in return, but then he's pulling at his shirt, stretching it, revealing a glimpse of collarbone before he falls back against the pillows on his bed. He looks back to Blaine, reaching for Blaine's shirt as he sings to him, he fists a hand in Blaine's shirt and pulls him closer. Blaine doesn't move away, he can't. He feels stuck, sweat prickling on the back of his neck, heart pounding loud in his chest. 

 _"It's you_  
 _It's you_  
 _It's all for you_  
 _Everything I do_  
 _Tell you all the time_  
 _Heaven is a place on earth with you"_  
  
Kurt is staring at Blaine, still holding tight to his shirt. Blaine feels like he can't breathe. Wonders if this is some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination. Kurt tilts his head, singing about 'bad girls,' a small smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Blaine stares at his mouth, it's so pink...

Kurt turns away and Blaine lets out the breath he's been holding. Kurt lays back on the bed, closing his eyes. Blaine doesn't know what's happening, nothing makes sense, the things he's feeling. Maybe his drink was drugged, maybe…  
  
Kurt sits back up, kneeling on the bed. He reaches out, holding Blaine's forearm with his free hand. Blaine unconsciously leans in toward him. Kurt lays his cheek against Blaine's chest, trying to look up at him as he sings. Kurt slowly turns until the back of his head and shoulders are pressed up against Blaine's chest, still holding onto Blaine's arm, bringing it around to hold him.

Oh god, what. He feels...

He's hard.

It repeats in his head,  _I'm hard, I'm hard_ , until he doesn't know what Kurt is singing anymore. His fingers fist Kurt's shirt, pulling him flush against his chest. He wants to touch Kurt so badly, to...  
  
Kurt arches his back, looking up at Blaine as he sings, face flushed and hair matted down, still a little sweaty, messy, _fuck_. Still holding Blaine's arm, Kurt tries to drag him onto the bed, laying back. He can't let Kurt, then Kurt will  _know_. There's a lull in singing and Kurt lays on the bed, stretching languidly. Blaine tries to pull himself together, shifting on his feet. Maybe he should leave...he's just so dizzy...  
  
 _"It's you, it's you, it's all for you"_  
  
Kurt starts singing again, eyes half open and on Blaine.  
  
Kurt reaches forward and slides his hand up Blaine's shirt, touching his stomach, palm skating along Blaine's skin. Blaine shivers and makes a small sound, but Kurt doesn't seem to notice, too wrapped up in the song.He traces a line down Blaine's stomach with his finger, hand dipping lower, fingers curling around the waistband of Blaine's jeans.

"Kurt..." Blaine pushes his hand away, but Kurt just curls his hand around Blaine's and holds it tight, tugging him insistently onto the bed.  
  
 _"It's better than I ever even knew_  
 _They say that the world is built for two_  
 _Only worth living_  
 _If somebody is loving you_  
 _Maybe now you do_  
 _Maybe now you do_  
 _Now you do..."_

Kurt gazes at Blaine as the song dies away, and Blaine, propped up on his arms, half draped over Kurt, can't move. He can't breathe. His heart is pounding like crazy and he is still kind of hard, and--

Piano and drums.

Blaine blinks.

_"Trouble, he will find you no matter where you go, oh oh  
No matter if you're fast, no matter if you're slow, oh oh"_

Kurt giggles and hugs his brush. Like nothing at all had just happened. "Your turn," he says, shoving the brush at Blaine.

"I'm...too tired. I'm just gonna go turn that off," Blaine says, sliding off the bed and getting unsteadily to his feet. He shuffles over to the iPod, and after a few fumbled attempts, turns it off.

His hands are shaking. This isn't happening, Kurt is just drunk. He is drunk, too, that's all. Just lonely and drunk, and horny. Right? Teenagers have a lot of hormones, it's a fact.

Decided, Blaine turns back to the bed to find Kurt sound asleep, snoring lightly.

Okay, he'll just sleep on the bed, too. No big deal. He can't sneak into his house, he'd wake up the dogs, his bedroom is on the second floor and he's sure all the windows are locked.

First, turn off the light.

Second, take off the shoes.

Third, sleep.

Slowly, carefully, Blaine sits on the bed, scoots up until he'd finds himself a spot large enough to sleep. Kurt is kind of taking up a lot of room, but Blaine doesn't have the heart to wake him and ask him to scoot over. He curls into a comfortable position and closes his eyes, but the room doesn't stop spinning very much.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine doesn't sleep well that night. This is probably in part because Kurt won't be still. He keeps moving from side to side, letting out these tiny groans like he's in the middle of a hundred bad dreams. Occasional contact, when Kurt throws an arm around him or shifts his body up against Blaine's, and all those little sounds - Blaine is torn between wanting to comfort him and wanting to  _touch_  him.

This is not good.

Blaine's sleep is just as fitful at Kurt’s, drifting in and out of consciousness, thinking too hard to think of nothing at all.


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine wakes up to Kurt trying to climb over him. "What--"  
  
"M'gonna puke," Kurt croaks, finally scaling Blaine's body and half falling into the bathroom in his haste. "Oh god..."  
  
Blaine winces in sympathy at the sound of retching coming from the other room. He pulls himself out of bed and finds Kurt kneeling over the toilet, looking paler than usual.  
  
"I'm never drinking again," Kurt moans.  
  
Blaine sits down next to him, facing the wall instead of the toilet, and gently rubs his back. "You'll feel better once you get it all out."  
  
Kurt just groans, and Blaine's eyes squeeze closed at the sound of more vomiting. Blaine stands up and scans the room until he finds a cup. Kurt probably uses it to gargle, so he rinses it out and fills it with fresh water.  
  
"Here, wash your mouth out," Blaine says, putting the cup between Kurt's hands.  
  
"Thank you," Kurt replies, doing as instructed.  
  
Once Kurt has passed through the worst of it, Blaine finds him some aspirin. He makes the room as hangover-proof as possible, drawing the curtains closed, and helps Kurt back into bed. He covers Kurt's forehead with a cool, damp washcloth, sitting close in case Kurt needs anything. Kurt reaches up and wraps his fingers around Blaine's wrist, slipping his hand into Blaine's. Blaine’s heart skips a beat.  
  
"You're like a mom," Kurt says with a faint smile, something he must think looks teasing.  
  
Blaine returns the smile. "I could always go get your dad."  
  
Kurt groans. "Please, no. He'd kick my ass," he says, letting go. Blaine can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed.  
  
"It's okay. I won't tell."  
  
Kurt's quiet for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Blaine."  
  
"Why?" Blaine asks, startled.  
  
"For calling you like that last night. Making you deal with me. You didn't have to."  
  
"Kurt--"  
  
"I hope I didn't disturb your dance." Kurt finally looks at him. Really looks. "Oh god, you're still in your dress shirt and pants. And they're _wrinkled_." He looks mildly horrified. Leave it to Kurt to worry about _clothes_ at a time like this.  
  
Blaine cracks a smile. "The dance was over, it was no problem. What are friends for, right?" Kurt smiles, and Blaine can't resist. His knuckles brush against Kurt's cheek, fingers against his temple under the pretense of adjusting the washcloth. "Sleep, okay? It's still early."  
  
"'Kay," Kurt says, closing his eyes. Blaine stays where he is and watches for a few minutes.  
  
It's 8:05am and either his parents aren't up or they just haven't noticed Blaine's empty bedroom, because when he checks his phone it has no new messages. He texts his mom to let her know he and some friends are going to IHop, and hopes a text message instead of a note doesn't seem too suspicious.  
  
He goes to Kurt's closet because he can't spend the day in his suit. Kurt has his clothing arranged by color, and Blaine can't help a tiny smile. Kurt takes such care, loves these clothes he won't even let himself wear so much. As Blaine's looking through the blue shirts, it hits him.  
  
It wasn't the drinking. He likes Kurt.  
  
 _Really_ likes him.  
  
And not just now, either. Not with how secretly happy he'd been when Kurt called him from the club. Kurt hadn’t called Karofsky or Azimio or whoever, Kurt had called _him_. Not with the thrill he gets singing to Kurt. Singing _with_ him. Not with the way he lights up every time Kurt texts him out of the blue. Or how pleased he is when Kurt borrows his clothes. Or the way Kurt's eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he leans close when they're studying, the way he--  
  
 _Not just friends_.  
  
Blaine has always liked Kurt. Maybe his brain just wouldn't let himself realize it, wouldn’t make the connection because he didn’t think such a connection was even a possibility, but he likes Kurt. He has for a long time.  
  
Blaine rests his forehead against the clothing rail, closing his eyes. Realization wants to feel like a relief, but at the moment he's too scared to let it in. He's out of his depth, confused. This changes him. This means he's...gay. Or bisexual. Or _something_ , something not straight. And here he is, always telling Kurt to have courage, to not hide, to be himself for the world to see. And right now Blaine would like nothing more than to hide away, even from himself.  
  
It's not like he thinks there's anything wrong with being gay. He's never had a problem with the idea, he's just never applied it to himself. It's never been _personal_. What will be different about him? Should he tell someone? Should he tell everyone?  
  
Oh wow. He can't stop thinking it: _oh wow_.  
  
He doesn't just like Kurt...he's _gay_.  
  
It explains so much. It feels like all the little cogs and gears of his existence all finally fit together, wound up and ready to go. He has to tell someone. He should tell Kurt. Kurt will know what to do.  
  
But then, no.  
  
Blaine thinks about Kurt and the bullying and his dear clothes all hidden away, kept in a safe place waiting for another life.  
  
No, then.  
  
Although, they could be a support. They could help each other. Except, what if Kurt figures out Blaine likes him? Blaine is one hundred percent sure he isn't ready for that. Because what if Kurt doesn't like him back? Their friendship is so tempestuous, it’s all still so new. Besides, Kurt likes handsome jocks like Finn and Puck, not short, preppy guys like him. Right?  
  
It's too much to take in all at once, and Blaine forces himself to end that train of thought. He picks clothes that look like they'll fit him and slips as quietly as he can into the bathroom. He takes a nice, hot shower, but it does little to relax him. Kurt's clothes fit, not as well as they fit Kurt, of course, but they'll do. He towel dries his hair and leaves it ungelled, taking a deep breath before returning to the bedroom.  
  
Kurt is snoring softly. Blaine takes the washcloth from his forehead and watches him for a minute, hoping Kurt will feel better when he wakes. He doesn't know how long Kurt will sleep, but can't sit here staring the entire morning or he'll go out of his mind. He hates to invade the Hummel's kitchen without permission, but he just can't stay in this bedroom.  
  
Blaine slips downstairs as quietly as possible. He contemplates making breakfast for everyone, wonders if it would be welcome or just intrusive. He's rooting around the fridge to see what they have, when a voice behind him says, "Blaine?"  
  
Blaine jumps a mile. "Oh my god, Mr. Hummel-- Burt. _Jesus_ , you-- I mean. You startled me." He puts his palm to his chest and waits for his heart rate to slow down.  
  
"M'a bit confused myself," Burt says, thankfully in amusement and not annoyance. "I didn't know you were here."  
  
"Some of us went out after the dance last night, so I invited Kurt. It was late, so afterwards he said I could just crash here. I hope you don't mind," Blaine plows on. "You were asleep so we didn't want to wake you. I was going to make breakfast..."  
  
Burt chuckles. Probably at how stupid Blaine's acting; man, he really sucks at lying. "It's fine, of course you're welcome here."  
  
"Thanks," Blaine says, smiling uncertainly. "Um, so, I was going to make scrambled eggs and pancakes, if you like that?"  
  
"Sure, I'll help," Burt says. "We got some turkey bacon or some healthy alternative in there, too."  
  
Blaine and Burt start getting things together, working quietly and companionably. Blaine starts to feel more comfortable, coming down from his earlier revelation. It's kind of crazy how different Burt is from his own father. Blaine isn't sure his father knows how to make anything more complicated than a sandwich, nor would he spend time with Blaine like this. When his father isn't working, he's out in the garage with his old cars, fixing them up so they can sit there looking pretty. Every once in a while he takes them out, but never with Blaine. It seems to be his only hobby.  
  
Blaine's so lost in thought that Burt startles him again when he speaks up.  
  
"So, how was the dance?" Burt asks.  
  
Last night feels like another universe, and the dance, in particular, as if it were months ago. "Um, it was okay. I guess."  
  
"Didja go with somebody?"  
  
"Yeah. Her name is Rachel Berry. She's really nice, we're friends, but. I think she wants to like...you know. Go out." Blaine flips a pancake in the pan and blushes from embarrassment at how personal he's being with his friend's dad.  
  
Burt gives him a curious look. "You don't wanna?"  
  
"I like her, it's just..." And here's the first lie. The first of how many, and for how long? Blaine stares at the pancakes a moment. "I guess I just don't like her like that."  
  
"Just 'cause she's a girl doesn't mean you're obligated," Burt says, like he's got experience, and huffs a quiet laugh.  
  
"Yeah," Blaine agrees, forcing a smile. That statement is true on so many levels. Blaine's eyes burn and he blinks them a few times, but it's no good. Soon they're watering over. He quickly digs the heel of his hand against them, trying to be discreet.  
  
"Blaine?" Burt sounds surprised. "You okay?"  
  
"I-- yeah. The heat from the stove..." But it's no good, the tears keep coming. He is so  _stupid_...  
  
"Hey, hey," Burt says in such a gentle voice it just makes Blaine cry harder. "Come on, come on, let's go sit down."  
  
"But the food..."  
  
"It'll hold," Burt says, turning off the burner and guiding Blaine by his shoulder into the dining room. He sits Blaine down and settles into a chair across from him, not saying anything at first. "You wanna talk about it?"  
  
Blaine sniffs and wipes his face with a napkin Burt hands him. He smiles out of nervousness. "I'm embarrassed."  
  
"Don't be. I'm a dad, this is our job," Burt says, smiling warmly.  
  
"Not my dad," Blaine says, and realizes too late that he said that out loud. "I mean, I don't know. I'm." He struggles to find the words, and can't. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"  
  
"As long as you aren't in some kinda danger," Burt says. He gives Blaine a contemplative look. "Did you get this Rachel girl pregnant?"  
  
Blaine knows Burt must have been trying to help by figuring out what was up so Blaine wouldn't have to say it, but it's so far off the mark he can't help but laugh. "Oh no, oh my god, I've never even-- er..."  
  
"Right," Burt says, looking like he's maybe trying not to laugh, too.  
  
Blaine takes a deep breath, but he can't quite meet Burt's eyes. "Okay. I think...I'm pretty sure. I don't like girls at all." His voice lowers, hands digging into the knees of Kurt's jeans. "I think I'm gay."  
  
Burt doesn't say anything at first, and when Blaine chances to look up at him he can't read his expression. "Hm," he says at last. "You tell Kurt?"  
  
"Kurt? No. You're the only one. It's kind of-- I only just realized it. Like. Yesterday. Rachel kissed me and it was just...nothing. And there's this boy," Blaine starts to say, but embarrassment tightens his throat and the words won't come out.  
  
Burt nods. "Well, Blaine, I'm gonna tell you right now, it will be okay," he says, looking Blaine right in the eyes. "It probably won't be easy, but you're still the same boy, and there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing."  
  
Blaine nods, tearing up again. Even though he knew this, he needed to hear someone say it. He needed the assurance, the acceptance.  
  
"And if somebody's got a problem, or somebody messes with you, you can come here," Burt continues. "You understand? No matter what, this is a safe place for you. Okay?"  
  
Blaine can only nod again, his throat too tight and eyes too blurry for anything else. He feels so thankful, and loved, and scared.  
  
"You should tell your folks," he adds. "Y'know, they might just surprise you."  
  
Blaine wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "I don't want to be a disappointment," he all but whispers.  
  
"You're not," Burt says firmly. "And don't ever let anybody tell you that. You're a good kid, Blaine. I've never seen Kurt this happy since you've been coming around."  
  
"Really?" Blaine asks, looking up.  
  
"Really. I know my son. He's always been kind of a loner and an introvert. He's had some friends over before, but to tell the truth they weren't anyone I was too impressed with."  
  
Blaine tries to imagine Karofsky or Azimio hanging out in the Hummel house. All his mind can conjure up is _awkward_.  
  
"He's different with you. You're a," Burt pauses a moment like he's trying to think of the right word, "positive influence."  
  
This gets a smile out of Blaine. He doesn't know if he's influencing Kurt, but it feels good to hear that he makes Kurt happy. He must, if Burt notices. "I'm glad we're friends," he says. "I hated leaving my old school."  
  
Burt nods. "Y'know," he says, after a moment. "When you're comfortable, you can tell Kurt. He won't judge you." Blaine must look uneasy at that, because he continues. "I know my son, he'll stick with you."  
  
Blaine nods a little, knowing he can trust Kurt. Of course he can, especially in this.  
  
Burt stands, giving Blaine's knee a pat. "You up for finishing breakfast, kid?"  
  
"Yeah. I am," Blaine says, smiles and means it. "Thanks, Burt."  
  
"Sure, kid."  
  
\----  
  
When breakfast is ready, Blaine offers to go get Kurt.  
  
"Why don't you take it up?" Burt says, throwing a bit of everything on a plate, "I gotta eat and run anyway, or my employees'll give me shit about bein' late."  
  
The bedroom is still dim when Blaine returns. Kurt's sleeping soundly, he looks so peaceful that Blaine kind of hates to wake him. Still, he gently shakes a shoulder. "Kurt? Kurt, wake up…"  
  
Kurt groans and doesn't move.  
  
"Come on, I brought you breakfast. On a tray and everything, mon petit prince," Blaine teases.  
  
Kurt opens his eyes halfway. "I didn't impregnate you last night, did I?" Blaine takes too long to reply and Kurt props himself up in alarm. "Oh god, I didn't do anything to you, did I?"  
  
"Anything?" Blaine echoes. "Oh. No, no, you didn't." He composes himself and smiles. "Just get up before your food gets cold."  
  
Kurt doesn't look convinced, but sits up primly, back resting against his pillows. "Shall you join me?"  
  
"I shall," Blaine says, slipping into bed beside Kurt.  
  
"This is good," Kurt says in the middle of eating. "You really made this?"  
  
"Mmhm," Blaine hums around a bite of pancake. "Me and your dad."  
  
"Oh my god."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think I'm supposed to be mortified. He _is_ my dad," Kurt says, eyebrow raised.  
  
"I like him," Blaine says.  
  
Kurt rolls his eyes. "Please don't tell me he convinced you to come help in the shop."  
  
"That didn't come up," Blaine says, laughing a little. "I told him you came to the IHop with a bunch of us after the dance and I ended up crashing here, by the way. Since I was in your kitchen at eight in the morning in your clothes."  
  
"You make it sound so scandalous," Kurt says.  
  
"We _did_ sleep together."  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"You _always_ say that," Blaine says. "But I know the truth."  
  
Kurt is silent, chewing and blushing. Normally Blaine would tease him about it, except that it's making _him_ blush. He stuffs his mouth with egg so he isn't expected to speak.  
  
It's Kurt who finally says something. "I have no idea how we got back last night. I remember the club, mostly. And I think I sang to you. Which, embarrassing. Uh, sorry. If I like. Did anything inappropriate. It's not you," Kurt is quick to say. "When I drink, I get pretty loose. It's bad and I am suitably ashamed. I hope you can forgive me." He dares a sideways glance.  
  
 _It's not you_. Somehow, it's all Blaine hears. Sticks in his mind like a barbed hook.  
  
Does he really expect Kurt to say it _is_ him, though?  
  
"Of course," Blaine says. "There's nothing to forgive. You danced with me, but that's about it." He looks down at his breakfast, pushing it around his plate with his fork. "You were, uh, making out with this guy..."  
  
"I know. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Kurt says, and he sounds so sad that Blaine looks over.  
  
"You don't make me uncomfortable," Blaine says with more ferocity than is appropriate. "I don't care that you're gay."  
  
Kurt is looking at him, and Blaine can't read his expression.  
  
"That guy is too old, though. It's like...illegal," Blaine says stupidly.  
  
Kurt smiles. "It isn't like I have many options."  
  
"That doesn't mean you have to settle for him!"  
  
"And you don't have to settle for Rachel Berry," Kurt says, jabbing at his eggs and eating a bite.  
  
"I'm not _settling_ for Rachel Berry," Blaine protests.  
  
Kurt turns to look at him. "Then why in the world would you date someone who wears butterfly knee socks? Why, Blaine? Did you know she's the president of the Craft Club? They had a fundraiser for new glue guns! They hold surprise locker bedazzlings! Do you know how long it took me to get a giant blinged-out Hello Kitty portrait off my locker door? You can still see the outline of a bow to this day."  
  
Blaine frowns and tries to defend his friend, "I think she's sweet."  
  
"Look," Kurt interjects with a sigh, "I just...get lonely, sometimes." He looks away, and Blaine desperately wants to touch him, make him look back over. "You wouldn't understand."  
  
Blaine's fingers curl around Kurt's wrist before he even realizes his hand has moved. Kurt looks over, bewildered. "I just didn't want him to take advantage of you." _And I was jealous_.  
  
"Blaine..."  
  
"You're my _best friend_ ," Blaine says, tightening his grip.  
  
Kurt doesn't say anything at first. "You're my best friend, too," he says, barely above a whisper.  
  
Blaine knows, but it doesn't stop his chest from aching to hear it from Kurt's mouth.  
  
  
\----  
  
Like a cut that doesn't hurt until looked at, now that Blaine realizes he likes Kurt he can _not_ stop thinking about him. It's like Attraction City, population: 1. Blaine Anderson.  
  
He thought he'd liked girls before, but knows now that it was never real because nothing has ever felt like this. This all-consuming need to be around Kurt, the way his stomach flutters with every touch, the stupid, ridiculous daydreams his mind conjures up. The less ridiculous things his mind comes up with at night when he’s alone in bed.  
  
Blaine's French grade is especially going to suffer, because during class Blaine gets distracted staring at the back of Kurt's head (or better yet, when Kurt will turn a little to look at something and Blaine can see his profile), and during their tutoring sessions Blaine gets distracted because Kurt's sitting so close, speaking so prettily in French.  
  
Unfortunately, Kurt starts to notice.  
  
“Des fois, j’aime porter des sous-vêtements pour femme."  
  
Blaine repeats the phrase on autopilot, eliciting a huff of frustration and a pen smacked against the table.  
  
"Blaine, are you even paying attention?"  
  
"Huh?" Blaine blinks. "...Yes!"  
  
"Really? What did I just say?" Kurt asks, looking pissy.  
  
"Um." Blaine thinks back, but mostly all he remembers about the past twenty minutes is Kurt's mouth and the very soft dusting of freckles along his nose. They're so faint he wonders if Kurt even realizes they're there.  
  
"Blaine."  
  
"I don't know!" Blaine gives up. "Something about women?"  
  
Kurt just shakes his head and closes his book. "Don't blame me when you fail the test."  
  
"What? I'm not--"  
  
"Blaine, for the past week you've been in your own world," Kurt says, cutting him off. "What's going on? Is this, like...is it Rachel?"  
  
" _Rachel_?"  
  
"Your _girlfriend_?," Kurt supplies, bite in his voice.  
  
Rachel. She's kind of decided they're dating. She has him carry her books between classes, she sits next to him at lunch and they hold hands, and god, he hasn’t done a thing to discourage her, not really. He just…he doesn’t want to hurt her. He wants to keep this secret just a little while longer.  
  
“No, it’s not her. I like someone else,” he blurts out, regretting it not two seconds later.  
  
“ _What_? Then why,” Kurt says, confused, before closing his mouth tight. When Blaine doesn’t immediately respond, he continues. “What the hell, Blaine. She looks at you like you’re the living embodiment of Adonis. Who else is there?”  
  
 _You_. The word is there in his mind, on the tip of his tongue. All he has to do is say it. One little word, three letters, one syllable.  
  
“Finn,” Blaine says. It just comes out and he doesn’t know why, but now Kurt will know, that he’s gay, that—  
  
But Kurt looks furious, and stands, slamming his books in a pile to leave. “You know what, screw you, Blaine.”  
  
“What? I—”  
  
“--You’re going to make fun of me for being gay, _and_ you’re going to use the subject of my worst humiliation to do it? You can take this friendship and _shove it_ —”  
  
“No, Kurt,” Blaine says, standing, grabbing at Kurt’s wrist because he’s trying to leave. “What humiliation? I meant…I meant Rachel likes Finn. Rachel’s still in love with Finn. I think she’s just trying to distract herself with me, and—”  
  
“You said _you_ like someone.”  
  
“I guess I just didn’t want to have to tell you Rachel’s personal business,” Blaine lies, feeling horrible, feeling a pit growing in his stomach, bigger and bigger. “I know how you can be about her.”  
  
Kurt bristles and shakes Blaine’s hand off. “You’re not a very good liar, Blaine.”  
  
Blaine’s face feels like Kurt just took a match to it, his stomach roiling.  
  
Kurt’s voice, when it comes, is cold. “I was under the impression you trusted me. I think I was wrong.”  
  
Blaine may very well throw up from the way Kurt is looking at him. “No—”  
  
“Then you should break up with Rachel.” Kurt slings his backpack over his shoulder. “You should be honest with _someone_.”  
  
 _It’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you._ It pounds at his head, fills his mouth, won’t come out. He _can’t_.  
  
“Kurt…”  
  
But Kurt is already out the door.  
  
\----  
  
“Rachel…”  
  
They’re sitting together in the choir room before anyone’s due to show up. He thinks this is probably not a good place to do this, but Kurt was right. He’s being a _terrible_ friend by stringing Rachel along, letting her believe something that is nothing but a lie for him to hide behind. He needs to do this now before it goes any further, and if he doesn’t get one burden off his shoulders he’s going to collapse from all of them.  
  
“Yes, Blaine?” Rachel is staring up at him with such large, earnest eyes, all attention on him. God, he doesn’t want to do this, would give anything not to have to hurt another person with his carelessness.  
  
He swallows. “I can’t be your boyfriend.”  
  
Rachel’s expression doesn’t change. “Why not?”  
  
 _Here goes_. Blaine takes a breath, lets it out, but only feels dizzier for it. “I’m gay,” he says, wondering why his mouth chooses so well to work now, but won’t around Kurt.  
  
Rachel does not look surprised, this is the first thing Blaine realizes. She looks downcast, but there’s no sign of shock in her expression. “Oh, Blaine,” she says, sadly. “I thought so.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes go wide. “ _What_?”  
  
“Well, I couldn’t be _sure_ , but,” Rachel says, needlessly smoothing down her skirt. “I thought so from the moment we met. You insisted otherwise, and you seemed as though you may have been interested in me, so I suppose I’d just _hoped_ …”  
  
“It’s—you can _tell_? I only just figured it out!” Blaine sputters, at a loss.  
  
“I have two gay dads, Blaine. I’m kind of an expert,” Rachel says.  
  
“Jesus…”  
  
Rachel takes his hand, gives it a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay, Blaine. It is. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”  
  
Blaine’s face warms, and he just feels so _stupid_. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I didn’t want to hurt you, I do care about you. Please believe me, I just…I didn’t have the courage.”

Rachel draws him in and hugs him close, holds him. He feels guilty, he should be the one holding her. She’s stronger than he is, and so much sweeter, too. “You’ll be a very good boyfriend to someone, someday,” she eventually says.

 

They hold each other until the others start to trickle in. Blaine catches Finn looking their way with something like disappointment or disapproval on his face before he sits next to Quinn.

Rachel’s too good for Finn _and_ him.

“Alright!” Mr. Schue breaks into their chatter. “Let’s talk about unrequited love!”

The entire glee club groans.

\----

Blaine leaves Kurt a voicemail.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain.”

He ends the message with a mash-up of Sweet And Tender Hooligan by The Smiths and So Sorry by Feist, playing the piano in accompaniment, until the beep cuts him off.

 

He means it in a funny way.

He means it in a serious way, too.

\----

Rachel asked if he'd told anyone else, and Blaine admitted not really, only a few people (In reality, still only Burt). He may have even hinted that it was okay to tell and that he wanted to be open. Kurt wants him to be honest, so he will be honest in every way possible. He doesn’t want to hide, but he doesn’t want to make some big announcement, either. So when Blaine joins the New Directions’ table at lunch the next day he isn’t entirely surprised by the pats on the back, the supportive smiles and gentle, teasing jibes. He’s glad he wasn’t wrong about them having his back, and relief floods through him, makes his eyes burn just a little. This is by far one of the scariest things he’s ever done.  
  
Mercedes, Tina, and Rachel are debating which member of the club Blaine would be hottest with (“Mike; those abs, Blaine’s arms, can you just imagine?” “Finn, obviously! The height difference would be so romantic”) when Santana saunters over, a smirk on her face, her Cheerios skirt seemingly extra short.  
  
“Hey there, Hottie McHobbit,” Santana all but purrs, running her fingers through Blaine’s hair, ruining the look he had carefully cultivated with so much gel. She drapes herself across his lap, arms winding around his neck. “A little birdie told me you’re _confused_.”  
  
Blaine gapes.  
  
“I thought I told you not to tell her,” Rachel hisses at Mercedes.  
  
“I didn’t!” Mercedes insists.  
  
“Then how?” Rachel asks.  
  
They both look at Brittany, who’s smiling widely, a plastic spoon between her lips as she watches Santana. They groan.  
  
“Um,” Blaine says.  
  
“I’d just like to offer you my services,” Santana says, close to Blaine’s ear. “So you won’t be so _confused_ anymore.”  
  
“I wasn’t even aware you liked me, Santana,” Blaine says helplessly.  
  
“ _Please_. What does _like_ have to do with anything?” she asks, running her hand up his arm. “Sure, my abuelo has a sharper sense of style, you’ve carved your hair into a helmet, and you’re kind of a loser, but I can work with it.”  
  
“Thanks. I think.” Blaine moves her hand away. “As much as I appreciate your offer, I’m going to have to decline,” he says with absolute sincerity. Even if Santana isn’t the nicest person, and even if her motives are truly dubious, it never feels good to be rejected. “I’m gay.”  
  
“You can’t know if you’ve never been with a girl,” Santana says, mouth a heavy smirk. "And Berry doesn't count."  
  
“Well…you’ve never had sex with a girl, and you know you aren’t a lesbian, right?” Blaine tries. That elicits a reaction Blaine doesn’t expect, an angry clenching of teeth and narrowed eyes.  
  
“Whatever, Blanderson,” she snaps, sliding off his lap. “You just turned down the best offer you’ll _ever_ get. Have fun singing about getting some action, ‘cause it ain’t neva gonna happen.”  
  
“Short guys have small dicks, anyway,” she calls over her shoulder, making her way over to Kurt’s table.  
  
Kurt’s table, where Kurt is sitting and looking right at him.  
  
Blaine doesn’t know what sort of facial expression he’s making, probably some form of mortification, but it doesn’t matter because Kurt looks away.  
  
There’s no way Kurt could have heard anything from their table, he’s too far away. Still, if Santana knows he’s gay, their whole group will know, especially now that he rejected her. She’s bound to ridicule him. Blaine doesn’t want Kurt to find out about him this way and feels a small flutter of panic at the thought. God, why hadn't he told Kurt sooner? Why hadn't he told Kurt _first_? It was that stupid fight, and Blaine's own cowardice...  
  
He pulls out his cell phone and texts Kurt. _Meet me outside?_  
  
Blaine watches as Kurt checks his phone and glances his way. His reply comes a moment later. _Where?_

Blaine texts Kurt to meet him under the bleachers, and leaves the lunch room, food untouched.

 

\----

Kurt shows up about five minutes after Blaine, absently twirling a half empty bottle of lemonade. “Santana would kill to take your v-card,” he greets. “She loves virgins.”  
  
It isn’t exactly the hello Blaine is expecting, and it takes him a moment to reply. “How do you know I’m a virgin?”  
  
Kurt’s expression speaks for itself: _bitch, please_.  
  
“Whatever,” Blaine says. “So are you.”  
  
Kurt looks smug and leans back against one of the bleacher poles. Blaine’s mouth parts and jealousy burns a flare through his chest.  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
Kurt just smiles, but eventually rolls his eyes. “Yeah, obviously I am.”  
  
Blaine’s heartbeat slows to normal. He has to remind himself that that doesn't matter, that wouldn't matter, he just-- ugh, what is _wrong_ with him? Liking someone is the worst.  
  
“So. Anyway.” Blaine’s words are coming out clipped, awkward. “Are we okay?”  
  
“That song was awfully sweet,” Kurt teases. Blaine is trying very hard not to let how pleased he is to hear that show, even if Kurt is being sarcastic. “Yeah, we’re okay. I mean, really, it should be me apologizing. I overreacted. You aren’t obligated to tell me everything.”  
  
“You know I wasn’t making fun of you, right?” Blaine asks, keeping his voice soft.  
  
“I don’t understand why you said that,” Kurt replies, playing with the cap of his bottle and looking away from Blaine. “About Finn.”  
  
“I was trying to tell you…I wanted to...”

Kurt waits, watching Blaine.

Blaine takes a deep breath. If he just doesn’t _overthink it_... “I think I’m gay,” he blurts out.  
  
Kurt drops his lemonade bottle. “ _Excuse me_?”  
  
“I’ve never wanted to have sex with a girl,” Blaine tries to explain, panicking, heart lodged painfully in his throat.  
  
“That doesn’t mean you’re _gay_ , that just means all the girls in Ohio are _ugly_.”  
  
“But there’s this boy—”  
  
Kurt looks so much paler than normal, which, to be honest, is a feat onto itself. “Oh god,” he’s saying. “You were serious about Finn. You were, weren’t you? Oh my god, Blaine, no. No, let me just break it to you now, Finn Hudson is straight. Painfully, decidedly straight. The straightest football player in all of McKinley.”  
  
“How do you know?” Blaine asks, because there’s definitely something Kurt isn’t saying.  
  
Kurt slumps down, crouching on the ground with his back pressed to one of the old couches that reside under the bleachers. ”Because,” he says, bitterness evident in just this one word, “once upon a time, I was in love with him.”  
  
Blaine doesn’t hide his surprise, crouching down next to Kurt.  
  
“It was eighth grade. We’d gone to different Elementary schools, but went to the same Jr. High. Back then I was…different. A little shy. Obviously I wasn’t like I am now.” Kurt rubs the back of his neck and gives up, sitting with a soft _fwump_. Blaine follows, their shoulders lightly bumping. “And he was just…god, you know. Tall, cute, _a football player_. He was so dopey, but in a charming way. I tried to get to know him, but he was friends with all the jocks and I was _me_. I was shorter back then, slightly chubby, as pale as ever, and of course I sounded like a girl. He and his friends liked to throw me in the dumpsters and throw my backpack into trees. Because, you probably won't believe me, but Finn was different back then, too. And I was a joke. But still, I had a stupid crush on him. I even joined the football team to try and get his attention.”  
  
“You were on the football team?” Blaine doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he can’t picture it.  
  
“For maybe a month, I was the kicker. It didn’t last,” Kurt says, glancing over. “Mostly because I tried to tell Finn I liked him. A few times, actually. He’s a little dense, and I was scared. In the end I’m not even sure if he realized, but…eventually I just stopped pretending, you know? He was straight and I didn’t have a chance. I think I’d kind of been lying to myself, I was fourteen and so hopeful. And god, older teammates, other football players, they harassed me even after I’d joined the team. It didn’t even matter that I was one of them. They’d shove me into things, and Finn would be _right there,_ and he did nothing.”  
  
Blaine takes one of Kurt's hands and holds it between his in a firm grip. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. He’s an idiot. He doesn’t deserve you, anyway.”  
  
“I know,” Kurt says, haughtily, but Blaine can tell he’s using it to hide, to distract from being so open. Kurt hates to appear vulnerable, Blaine knows, and is grateful every time Kurt lets his guard down around him. “It’s been awhile, I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with being alone. I can wait.”  
  
“You aren’t, though,” Blaine says, giving Kurt’s hand a gentle squeeze.  
  
“I meant, like, in a relationship.” Kurt rolls his eyes, but smiles a little.  
  
“Oh, well.” Blaine knows he’s blushing, and can’t seem to figure out what to say to that.  
  
Kurt laughs, a quiet, breathy sound. “You’re so _earnest_. Where did you come from, Blaine Anderson? I mean, look, you’re even holding my hand like it’s normal.”  
  
Blaine’s face falls and he tries to jerk his hand away. “Fine—”  
  
“No,” Kurt says quickly, holding tight to his hand. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I just meant…” He shrugs and looks right at Blaine. “I didn’t know people like you existed.”  
  
“Maybe because you never give them the chance,” Blaine says.  
  
“No, Blaine,” Kurt says, and he sounds so serious. “It’s because there _is_ no one like you.”  
  
Blaine wants to kiss Kurt, right now. Wants to very badly, but he can’t seem to make himself move. His fingers tighten their hold on Kurt’s hand and he opens his mouth to say something, but someone cuts him off.  
  
“Well, look at you two lovebirds,” comes a bored, female voice. “Move it, that’s my couch.”  
  
Blaine looks up, mortified, and Kurt’s hand slips out of his.  
  
“Whatever, Mack,” Kurt says, making himself sound just as bored as the girl, “taking a break from the truck stop?”  
  
Kurt stands up, so Blaine stands up, too, trying to school his features into something neutral.  
  
“It’s no fun during the day,” the girl, Mack, replies, lighting up a cigarette.  
  
“Right, because then you actually have to see the beer bellies and receding hairlines,” Kurt says, starting to walk away. The girl doesn’t even reply, too distracted by smoking and staring at nothing, and Blaine chances a worried look at Kurt. He doesn’t care that they were caught for himself so much as for Kurt’s sake.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asks once they’re out of earshot.  
  
“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Kurt says, waving a dismissive hand. “Mack’s a Skank. They’re disenchanted loners. She won’t gossip, she probably doesn’t even know my name.”  
  
Kurt turns to Blaine and leans up against the side of his truck. They seem to have wandered into the parking lot without Blaine noticing. “So, Blaine, I just made that all about myself. You were telling me some pretty big news, I’m sorry…”  
  
Blaine glances around, but school’s still actually _happening_ so there is no one else in the parking lot. “Uh.” He smiles shyly, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Well. I pretty much said all that needs to be said.”  
  
“You’re gay,” Kurt says.  
  
Blaine looks back up and nods. “I’m gay.”  
  
Kurt squints. “You’re sure? Like really sure?”  
  
Blaine laughs a little, because it’s kind of ridiculous how sure he is. “Really sure. One hundred percent.”  
  
Kurt looks thoughtful for a long moment and reaches out, hands on Blaine’s sleeves to tug him close. He hugs Blaine, and Blaine instinctively hugs back, tucking his face against Kurt’s neck.  
  
“Kurt?”  
  
Kurt pulls back with a smile, genuine and warm. “It’s just nice…not being the only one anymore.”  
  
Blaine returns the smile. “You’ll have to teach me everything you know.”

Kurt laughs and unlocks his truck. “Come on, let’s skip and check out Barnes and Noble’s international fashion magazine section. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

\----

“Your dad knows,” Blaine says, a spread of John Galliano’s latest collection open on his lap.  
  
Kurt looks up from his own issue of L'uomo Vogue, eyebrows raised. “What?”  
  
“I figured it out after homecoming. Rachel kissed me and I didn’t feel anything, and I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t like her like that, and—”  
  
“Oh, Blaine, I can give you a hundred reasons.”  
  
Blaine pulls a face. “Your dad helped me make breakfast, and I kind of broke down and told him.”  
  
Kurt carefully turns the page of his magazine, studying it as though it holds all the answers of the universe. “Oh?” he asks, like it’s nothing. “And how did he react?”  
  
“He was so nice, Kurt,” Blaine says, willing Kurt to look up. “He was so understanding, and said I was welcome over any time. That if I got into trouble I had a place at your house…he told me I should tell you. That you wouldn’t judge me.”  
  
Kurt finally looks up, and there’s a rawness there Blaine hadn’t expected. “It’s different when it’s your son.”  
  
“I don’t think so, Kurt,” Blaine murmurs. “I think he would be okay. I think he’ll love you no matter what—”  
  
“Look, this is about you, not me,” Kurt says firmly. “I’m glad he accepted you.”  
  
“I just think you’ll feel better if you tell him…”  
  
“Blaine, drop it,” Kurt says, smacking the magazine closed. “I’m not ready.”  
  
“Okay,” Blaine says gently, and reaches over to take Kurt’s hand.  
  
Kurt jerks his hand away. “Can you stop doing that? It’s really gay.”  
  
Blaine raises an eyebrow, and there’s a small moment of silence before they both burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French phrase Kurt said to try and get Blaine's attention was: "Sometimes I like to wear women's underwear."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence in this chapter.

Word of Blaine’s orientation circulates around school.  
  
Blaine figures it out when he starts getting curious, disgusted, and what appear to be threatening, looks. He tries to ignore them, but it’s difficult because once he knows it’s happening he notices it constantly. Sometimes he’ll hear  _homo_  or  _fag_  or  _fairy_  as he passes, and he tries to ignore that, too.  
  
What he  _can’t_  ignore is getting pushed into his locker, which is happening even more frequently lately. Blaine has bruises on his back and arms, and his shoulder’s been sore all week from a particularly hard shove into the brick wall outside of school. It’s usually Karofsky. Sometimes it’s a hockey player, but more often than not, it’s Karofsky. Ever since that day in the locker room, Karofsky’s been out for blood, and he’s the only one in Kurt’s group that doesn’t seem to be held in check by whatever Kurt did or said to get them away from him.  
  
Blaine doesn’t tell Kurt. He doesn’t want Kurt to have to fight his battles, and knows Kurt has already put himself on the line trying to keep them off his back. What’s he going to do? Tell Karofsky to lay off a guy that to his mind, Kurt isn’t even friends with? And there’s a small part of Blaine, deep down, that knows the real reason is that it will hurt too much if Kurt chooses his reputation over Blaine. He certainly doesn’t want to force Kurt to come out, but he also hates the thought that Kurt would knowingly hang around with people who are hurting him. It’s just better this way.  
  
Blaine is fumbling with his combination when he gets shoved, hard, and is taken so unaware that he falls to the floor. “Watch yourself, homo,” says Karofsky, who Blaine only places once he looks up and actually sees the hulking jock continue on his merry way down the hall.  
  
“Fuck you,” Blaine says, but his voice sounds hollow to his own ears. He doesn’t think Karofsky hears him, anyway.  
  
He picks himself up and his hands are shaking a little as he takes his Biology and English books from his locker. It’s starting to get to him. He’s trying hard not to let it, but he’s losing that battle. He slinks into Biology class, head down, making a point not to look at Kurt on his way in. He feels bizarrely ashamed.  
  
He gets a text, of course.  
  
 **K:**  What’s wrong?  
  
Blaine bites his lip and texts back.  _Nothing_.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine hates basketball day in Gym class. Kurt always manages to talk Bieste into using the exercise machines instead of playing, and someday Blaine’s going to learn Kurt’s trick because he  _sucks_  at this game.  
  
The game is almost over and Blaine isn’t paying close enough attention, loses his footing when he jumps for the ball, and accidentally stumbles, falling right against Karofsky.  
  
“Get off me, fag!” Karofsky shouts, shoving him to the floor. Most of the players look their way, and the game stops abruptly.  
  
Everyone is looking at  _him_ , snickering, laughing.  
  
Someone mimes a blowjob and Blaine snaps.  
  
“That’s not what you said last night!” he says loudly, getting to his feet. He tries to smile and knows it probably looks  _deranged_  because he’s so angry.  
  
Karofsky stops. “What did you say?”  
  
“I said, I thought you liked that blowjob I gave you last night?” Blaine yells, wanting the whole gym to hear. If Karofsky’s going to try and humiliate him, he’s going to give it back.  
  
“I—you fucking—”  
  
Blaine advances, curling his shaking hands into fists. “Maybe you wanna blow me this time? Huh? You wanna—”  
  
There’s a loud, sharp whistle from Bieste across the gymnasium. “Alright, break it up! What’s goin’ on over there!?”  
  
There are murmured voices around him and Karofsky looks absolutely murderous.  
  
“Nothing,” Karofsky says, staring at Blaine.  
  
Blaine stalks off for the locker room, ready to ignore anyone who tries to stop him.  
  
No one does.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine doesn’t see Karofsky for the rest of the day. He’s getting ready to leave, and not a moment after he closes his locker door, Karofsky fists a hand in his hair and smashes his face into it.  
  
Karofsky’s voice, close to his ear, hisses, “If you ever pull that again, you’re  _dead_.”  
  
The hand in his hair lets go, and Blaine is stunned. Pain blooms along his nose and forehead, sharp, sudden. He feels  _wet_  dribbling from his nose and gingerly raises a hand to feel. His fingers come away sticky red, and Blaine looks down the hallway at Karofsky’s retreating back.  
  
No.  
  
 _No_.  
  
Blaine runs after him, grabs the back of Karofsky’s jacket when he catches up just inside the boy’s locker room. Karofsky’s too big, and Blaine’s attempt to fling him, well,  _somewhere_ , fails. Karofsky turns, eyes wide and accusing. He clearly hadn’t expected Blaine to come after him.  
  
Blaine uses Karofsky’s surprise to his advantage and swings an arm back to deck him. “Fuck you!” he screams, and knows his voice sounds like a wounded animal, but doesn’t care, doesn’t care because he is  _not_ going to be pushed around by this ignorant, posturing jerk. He clips Karofsky in the jaw, but it doesn’t seem to do a whole lot, only seems to piss Karofsky off more.  
  
“You’re done for, Anderson!” Karofsky yells, slamming him up against the lockers. Blaine makes a soft  _oomph_  sound, flails and struggles.  
  
“You’re nothing!” he yells back, kicking at Karofsky’s legs.  
  
“Fag!” Karofsky says, wrenching Blaine’s fists to his side. “You need to learn your place.”  
  
“So what! I’m gay and I’m better than you!” Blaine screams, gasps, eyes and lungs burning. “You’re just  _jealous!”_  
  
“Shut the fuck up—”  
  
“I’m gay and you’re just pathetic and scared and stupid!”  
  
“Shut the fuck  _up_ , Anderson!” Karofsky yells, and clamps a hand over Blaine’s mouth.  
  
Blaine screams, the force of it hurting his throat, nostrils flared and sucking in oxygen. He can’t move, not anything substantial, not with Karofsky’s giant body pinning him to the lockers. He has one hand free, which he uses to try and dislodge Karofsky’s hand, but it’s no good. Karofsky’s hand moves from his mouth and downward, fingers firm around his neck and jaw.  
  
“Just  _shut up_ ,” Karofsky says again, words clipped.  
  
“No,” Blaine croaks. “Let me—”  
  
Karofsky kisses him.  
  
Karofsky’s mouth is on his, hard enough to almost hurt, hot and wet and terrifying. Blaine can’t move at first, all he can think is  _what is happening? what is happening?_ And then he’s shoving and punching and he almost thinks he's trapped,  _and_   _what is Karofsky going to do next?_  until he’s free, skidding across the locker room floor on his ass.  
  
“What the hell, you sick, crazy—?” he says all in one breath, scrambling to get up. Karofsky moves to follow, looking angry and scared, and it’s the fear he sees in Karofsky’s eyes that’s almost the worst.  
  
“ _I’m_  sick!? You’re—”  
  
“ _Stay away from me!_ ” Blaine moves to the door, staring Karofsky down from across the room. “I’ll tell everyone!”  
  
“You tell _anyone_  and you’re a dead man, Anderson,” Karofsky says, but Blaine’s already running into the hallway, stumbles and runs and runs.  
  
He doesn’t stop until he barrels through the girl’s restroom door, tumbling into the room, making some mousy freshman shriek. “Sorry,” he says, and locks himself in a stall. He manages two unsteady breaths before retching into the toilet. It's mostly dry heaving, whether from the fighting or nerves or both, he can’t tell, but it’s a good long while before his insides stop clenching and his hands stop shaking.  
  
When he leaves the stall, the room is empty. He washes his mouth out in the sink, dunks his whole head under, sending pink rivulets streaming along the clean white porcelain. He has a small cut along his hairline and his nose still has blood caked underneath. His mind has gone blank. He’s moving on automatic, pushing down on his emotions. He’s reaching for the paper towel when he feels his pocket vibrate.  
  
Three text messages from Kurt. They were supposed to meet after school.  
  
Flexing his fingers, Blaine fumbles with the tiny keyboard to reply.  
  
 _be out in min_  
  
He cleans himself up as best he can and slowly makes his way out to the parking lot, glancing around as he goes, but there’s no one ( _Karofsky_ ) around. Kurt is waiting for him, leaning against his truck, and Blaine can see the moment his expression goes from irritation to concern.  
  
“Blaine?”  
  
Blaine’s gaze darts anywhere but Kurt. “Sorry, I—”  
  
“What happened?” Kurt asks, searching his face, and god, how can he  _tell_?  
  
“It’s nothing,” Blaine says, but he can hardly hear himself and his stupid, traitor eyes are burning. He grits his teeth, willing himself not to tear up, and pushes past Kurt to get into the truck. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Blaine, what happened?” Kurt repeats, his voice taking on a sharper tone.  
  
“Nothing, Kurt! I’m fine!” Blaine snaps, turning back around.  
  
“Yes, I can see that,” Kurt says dryly, and comes closer. Kurt reaches for his face. Blaine feels the tips of his fingers touch his upper lip, near the cut on his forehead, and he gently bats Kurt’s hand away. “Who did this to you?”  
  
Blaine doesn’t answer, feeling humiliated.  
  
“Blaine…”  
  
“I can take care of myself,” he hisses, tipping his head up, eyes blinking rapidly.  
  
“I know you can, but as your friend I’d like to know,” Kurt says. And that’s a low blow, right there. How can Blaine refuse an answer in the face of friendship?  
  
“Karofsky,” Blaine mumbles.  
  
Kurt’s nostrils flare and his lips thin into a grim line. “He punched you?”  
  
“He…we fought,” Blaine says around the tight feeling in his throat.  
  
“There’s something else,” Kurt finally says. “You won’t even look at me.” Kurt touches his face, it’s so tender, and why is Kurt being so sweet? Kurt is hardly ever the one to touch, it’s always Blaine, so casually tactile, but not Kurt. Blaine can’t hold the tears in any longer, and they escape with a small shudder. “What is it?”  
  
“He…he kissed me,” Blaine whispers, feeling sick to his stomach. He just can’t get the way Karofsky looked at him out of his head. “He hit me and I followed him and I was trapped. He was so—”  
  
But Kurt’s not there anymore.  
  
Kurt is running toward the school, and Blaine’s satchel falls from his hand. “Kurt!” he yells. He wipes furiously at his cheeks and runs after. He has to stop Kurt before…he doesn’t know, he just has to.  
  
Blaine finally catches up with Kurt before he makes it to the front doors, grabbing his arm and nearly sending them both stumbling. “Kurt, stop!”  
  
“No,” Kurt snaps, pulling to get out of Blaine’s grasp. “No. I’ll kill him.”  
  
“Kurt, please, it’s not like he—”  
  
“It’s not like he  _what_?” Kurt says, suddenly close. He looks  _furious_. “It’s not like he  _assaulted_ you?”  
  
“But. You’re supposed to be on his side,” Blaine says helplessly, not wanting Kurt to end up in the same sort of position he’s in.  
  
“Screw his side!” Kurt throws his hands up, and Blaine has never, ever seen him look so mad. “I hate them. I hate  _him_. Don’t you get it?  _I only care about you_ ,” Kurt says, like the words are ripped from his throat.  
  
Blaine just stands there, heart beating in his ears. He wonders if Kurt can hear it. He wonders if Kurt  _knows_.  
  
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Blaine whispers, because it’s hard enough to speak at all, the way he’s feeling.  
  
“He can’t get away with it,” Kurt says, and stalks into the school. Blaine follows him, trailing close behind.  
  
“We can just tell Figgins,” Blaine says.  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
“The principal’s office?”  
  
“ _Karofsky_ ,” Kurt says.  
  
“I…he was in the boy’s locker room,” Blaine says, jogging a little to keep up with Kurt when he takes off in the direction of the gym.  
  
The boy’s locker room is empty. So is the gym and the bathroom and the hallways, save for a few stragglers and teachers. Kurt slams his hand against a locker, and Blaine jumps.  
  
“Maybe we should just tell Figgins,” Blaine says quietly once more. Kurt glares at the locker, and Blaine isn’t sure at first if he’s going to answer at all.  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Kurt says, and heads that way.  
  
Blaine tells Figgins what happened in a hushed voice, not only out of nervousness, but because of Kurt. Even if Kurt already knows, Blaine hadn’t gotten specific, and with each new piece of information he looks more and more angry. By the end, when Blaine confesses to Karofsky having kissed him, Kurt is fuming.  
  
Figgins says he’ll contact Karofsky’s parents, and that he’ll have to contact Blaine’s as well. He tells Blaine to wait in the office lobby for one of his parents to arrive, and it takes everything in him not to break down. He just feels so humiliated, and to have to tell his  _parents_? They don’t even know he’s gay.  
  
Blaine slumps down in a chair, and Kurt sits next to him. Blaine glances over. “You don’t have to stay,” he murmurs.  
  
Kurt gives him a _look_ , and takes Blaine’s hand.  
  
“Kurt, please,” Blaine says, pulling his hand away.  
  
“I don’t care, Blaine,” Kurt says, and finds his hand, tugging it between them and holding on.  
  
Blaine looks away, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his free hand. They sit in silence for a while, Blaine lost in his own thoughts, Kurt most likely in the middle of his own.  
  
“This is my fault,” Kurt eventually says.  
  
“ _How_?” Blaine asks, astonished.  
  
Kurt shakes his head, looking at the wall opposite them. “I feel responsible. What’s the point of all this if I can’t even keep them off your back?”  
  
“I thought the point was to keep them off  _your_ back,” Blaine says.  
  
“That was before.”  
  
“Before?” Blaine asks. Kurt’s thumb swipes over his knuckles, back and forth.  
  
“Before we became friends,” Kurt says, turning his head to look at Blaine. “You’re the only real friend I’ve  _ever_  had. I was so dumb to almost throw this away for them.”  
  
Warmth fills Blaine and makes him smile. He can hardly breathe for how badly he wants to kiss Kurt. He wants to say I  _like_  you, wants to touch him, to…he doesn’t know. He just wants Kurt.  
  
Blaine opens his mouth to say something, when the door opens and in walks his father. His mouth closes immediately and he smoothly withdraws his hand from Kurt’s. If he was a dog he’s sure his ears would flatten.  
  
“Blaine,” his father says, perpetually stern. He’s in a suit and tie, having likely come from work. Blaine interrupted his father at work, which is never a good thing.  
  
“Dad…”  
  
“You got into a  _fight_?” his father asks, looking at him as though he's a stranger.  
  
Blaine shrinks back into his seat a little, and Kurt must sense his current inability to reply because he speaks up. “The other guy hit him first, sir.”  
  
His father frowns at Kurt, and Blaine fights the impulse to throw himself in front of Kurt to spare him such a look. “And you are?” his father’s asking.  
  
“Kurt Hummel, sir,” Kurt says, the epitome of cool. “I’m a friend of Blaine’s.”  
  
Blaine starts to say something, when Figgins’ office door opens. Figgins quickly scans the room and plasters a smile on his face. “Hello, I’m Principal Figgins,” he says, moving forward and extending a hand. “Mr. Anderson, I presume?” Blaine’s father shakes his hand with an affirmation, and Figgins ushers them into the office.  
  
Kurt is excluded from the meeting, and Blaine gives him one last, fleeting look before the door closes.  
  
“Now, Mr. Anderson,” Figgins starts as they sit, “Blaine here has made some accusations which I have taken very seriously. He told me one of his classmates was harassing him, verbally and physically, and…” There’s a pause where Blaine can tell Figgins is trying very hard to come up with the best way to say it. Blaine wants to save him the trouble, but he already feels so humiliated he just can’t. “The other student…kissed him. Now, we here at McKinley—”  
  
“He did  _what_?” Blaine’s father interjects, looking mildly horrified.  
  
Blaine’s father is looking at him now, like it’s his fault, and he balks. “Dad, please…” Please what, he doesn’t know.  
  
“Mr. Anderson, I have contacted the other boy’s parents and he will be dealt with according to policy. Now—”  
  
“Some  _boy_  tried to  _force_  himself on you?” Blaine’s father asks, clearly disgusted.  
  
Blaine’s voice comes out tinier than he intends, “Dad, it's--”  
  
“Is that what happened, Blaine?” Blaine’s father demands.  
  
Blaine doesn’t know what to say, because it _is_ what happened, technically, just… “Yes.”  
  
“That is sexual assault, and we will be pressing charges,” Blaine’s father says, looking back to Figgins. “What is the other boy’s name?”  
  
“No, dad, Jesus, he’s just a bully, I don’t want to have to-- to go to  _court_ or s—”  
  
“Quiet, young man,” Blaine’s father snaps, and Blaine automatically shuts up. “Go wait outside, I need to talk to Mr. Figgins without you cutting in.” When Blaine doesn’t immediately get up, his father glares. “ _Now_.”  
  
“Real nice of you to take such a close freaking interest in me now,  _dad_ ,” Blaine explodes, getting up and slamming the door behind him.  
  
Blaine wants to take it back, all of it. It was a bad idea, telling on Karofsky. Blaine should have just dealt with it himself -  _does not let himself think of the look in Karofsky’s eyes, his thick fingers around his neck, the taste of his mouth_  – he should have just tried to forget about it.  
  
He stalks out of the office, down the hall, walking by memory because he certainly can’t see anything right now, everything is blurry and he doesn’t know when he started running, but he’s out of the school and fuck this, fuck Karofsky, fuck his dad, fuck—  
  
“Stop!”  
  
He thinks the yelling may have been going on a ways back, but it catches up with him now.  _Kurt_ catches up with him, Blaine knows because Kurt stops him with his whole body, like he’s a barrier that Blaine will heed.  
  
He does.  
  
Kurt smells familiar and he’s warm and he’s _everything_.  
  
“Blaine, Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, holding him. There are sobs and they’re coming from him, making his whole body tremble. He wants to stop but he can’t.  
  
“He’s going to  _know_ ,” Blaine says into Kurt’s shoulder, clinging to him. “God, Kurt, he’s going to know about me now. He’s going to hate me. He’s not like your dad, he’s not--”  
  
“I know,” Kurt says softly. “I could hear from outside the door.”  
  
“God,” Blaine says weakly.  
  
The tears stop, but he still feels borderline hysterical. He pulls back from Kurt’s embrace with a shudder, everything going cold. “I want to leave,” he says.  
  
“But, your dad,” Kurt starts to say, looks at Blaine and just nods. “Where?”  
  
“Anywhere,” Blaine says.  
  
Kurt takes Blaine’s hand like a child and leads him to his truck. Blaine moves on instinct, even remembers to buckle as the truck pulls out of the parking lot.  
  
The radio plays quietly while suburbs taper off into farmland. Crops and an occasional cow or two zip past the window, but Blaine hardly notices. His mind is fighting with itself between thinking about what happened, and not. He’s on edge. School and home have now become uncertain variables. He doesn’t know what to expect from his parents, what to expect from Karofsky and the rest. Nowhere feels safe. Nothing feels right.  
  
“That was my first kiss with a boy,” Blaine mumbles, staring past his reflection at a seemingly endless corn field.  
  
“I didn’t know you held such notions of romance,” Kurt says after such a long moment, Blaine wasn’t sure he was going to say anything at all. His voice is quiet, lilted in a way that’s trying not to sound so morose.  
  
“Of not wanting someone who hates me to kiss me? Imagine that,” Blaine says, smiling a little.  
  
Kurt huffs. “I can’t imagine why you didn’t reciprocate, Blaine. That Karofsky, he's quite a catch. So nice, so mannerly.”  
  
Blaine cracks a smile. “Guess I’m just shy.”  
  
“I spent so much time around him and I never would have thought. Never,” Kurt says, the teasing in his voice gone.  
  
“You know what this means, right?” Blaine asks.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“All the bullies at McKinley are just closeted.”  
  
Kurt doesn’t reply, probably less than thrilled to be likened to Karofsky. Blaine doesn’t care at this moment, just stares out the window.  
  
After an hour and a half of aimless driving that feels more like five or ten, Blaine starts to recognize the roads they’re on. It isn’t long before they’re in his neighborhood. He knew this would happen, it’s not like he can stay in Kurt’s truck forever, yet he can’t stop the knot of dread building in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Kurt stops in front of Blaine’s house and looks over at him. “Do you want me to come with you?”  
  
Blaine wishes dearly he would, but doesn’t ever want to expose Kurt to his parents’ bigotry. “No. I’m. I’ll be fine.”  
  
“If you need anything, I’m a phone call away,” Kurt says.  
  
“I know.” Blaine stares up at his house, willing his legs to move.  
  
“Blaine…” There’s a hand on his knee, and he looks over into a face of earnest concern. A face belonging to a boy he doesn’t know what he’d do without. “You did nothing wrong.”  
  
Blaine nods mutely and forces himself to unbuckle, open the door, step outside. He wants desperately to ask Kurt to come with him, but reminds himself he can’t.  
  
“I’ll call you.”  
  
“Thanks, Kurt,” Blaine says, and musters up a smile.  
  
Kurt returns it, and it’s like the sky opens up to reveal the sun. Blaine drinks it in, figures if he sees it enough it’ll start to replace other thoughts.  
  
Kurt's truck doesn't leave until Blaine closes his door behind him.  
  
\----  
  
It is pitch black and pouring and Blaine has forgotten an umbrella.  
  
He stands huddled under the tiny awning of Kurt’s porch, soaking wet, toes numb and body shivering. His coat feels like it weighs thirty pounds. He doesn’t know what time it is and all the lights are dark, so instead of knocking, Blaine calls Kurt’s cell. It rings twice before Kurt picks up.  
  
“Blaine?”  
  
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I—c-can I come in?”  
  
“Come in?” Kurt echoes.  
  
“I’m kind of on your porch.”  
  
“Oh. Yes, sure. Of course. I’ll be right down!”  
  
Blaine shoves his phone back into his coat pocket and the door opens a moment later. Kurt’s jaw drops. He opens the screen door and tugs Blaine inside.  
  
“Oh my god, Blaine, what…you’re soaked! How long have you been out here?”  
  
“I walked,” he tries to explain.  
  
“Blaine!”  
  
“Shh, Kurt, your dad…”  
  
“Your lips are  _blue_ , Blaine. It’s  _November_! Are you crazy?” Kurt’s fingers are working to get Blaine’s coat unbuttoned and off. “Take your shoes off, please, before you drown in them. Even your socks are soaked! Do you want to get pneumonia and  _die_?”  
  
Kurt looks at him, his eyes filled with such intensity that Blaine can hardly breathe. Not with Kurt’s fingers, warm and steady, brushing his shoulders and sides as he pushes Blaine’s coat off. Blaine shivers and knows it isn’t from the cold.  
  
“I needed to see you,” he whispers.  
  
“Blaine…” Kurt’s just looking at him, and it’s a moment before he adds, “We need to get you warmed up, and then you tell me what happened.”  
  
Kurt leads him upstairs and into his bathroom, ushering Blaine in and then stepping back out. Blaine pulls his shirt off with numb fingers and tosses it into the bathtub. His shirt is heavy and wet despite the winter coat he’d been wearing.  
  
Kurt returns with some clothes and pauses in the doorway. His gaze lingers and Blaine’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t imagine Kurt being attracted to him, not like this, not ever, but especially not like this. But god, he wants him to be.  
  
“You’re shivering,” is all Kurt says, and once the clothes are in Blaine’s arms, he leaves, closing the door behind him.  
  
Right. Blaine looks like a drowned rat.  
  
Blaine dries himself off with the towel, scrubbing it through his hair, his curls free and crazy looking, and changes into the clothing Kurt brought him. He’s starting to get the feeling back in his fingers and toes, that which he hadn’t even realized he’d lost.  
  
“You gave me pajamas?” Blaine says when he leaves the bathroom.  
  
“Do you know how late it is?” Kurt asks, sitting on the side of the bed. “You might as well stay. It's not like you’ve never stayed over before.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Blaine is quick to amend, “thank you.”  
  
“Come get warm,” Kurt says, holding the comforter up for Blaine to presumably get under.  
  
He hopes he isn’t blushing too hard when he climbs into Kurt’s bed. There are so many blankets and pillows, and Kurt right there next to him. It’s exactly what he needs.  
  
Kurt looks over at him expectantly.  
  
Blaine exhales loudly. “Right, so…I told my parents.”  
  
“About Karofsky?”  
  
“Well, yeah, that and…about me,” he says, his throat already going tight. He doesn’t want to talk about it, really does not, and wishes he could just fall asleep and forget it ever happened. But Kurt is looking at him with such worry, what else can he do?  
  
“You came out?” Kurt says, voice hushed.  
  
Blaine nods to keep from speaking, but clearly he’s expected to go on, so he swallows and does. “They weren’t happy. They…when I said it, the looks on their faces. It was like, at first they didn’t believe me. Like I was kidding, but it wasn’t funny. So I had to insist, yes, I was sure, no, it didn’t have anything to do with Karofsky--”  
  
“Oh Jesus, what, they thought he turned you because his  _mouth_  touched yours?” Kurt asks.  
  
“I don’t know, I think…they probably don’t understand people are just  _born_  like this. They probably refuse to believe it because in their minds it’d mean there was something defective in  _them_ , like they made an alien baby or something,” Blaine says, his voice building to a higher pitch from anger.  
  
Kurt lays a hand on Blaine’s arm, probably in part to quiet him.  
  
“Once they realized I was serious, they were just so  _disappointed_.” He pauses, because he can see their faces so clearly in his mind. It only just happened hours ago, but he knows it’s something he will never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tries. “No,” he says, “they were disgusted.”  
  
“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says.  
  
“I knew they would be, Kurt. I know what they’re like. I guess I’d just hoped, because it was  _me_ , they would…I don’t know…”  
  
“I know, Blaine,” Kurt says, raising a hand to Blaine’s damp curls.  
  
“It’s not like being gay changes anything,” Blaine says, a certain edge of desperation in his voice, like it’s Kurt he’s trying to reason with. “Not really. I mean, yeah, it’s a part of who I am, but I’m still  _me_. I’m still the same person, I just don’t want to date girls. What’s the big deal?” Kurt’s stroking his hair, fingers gentle against his scalp, trying to calm him, but Blaine’s just so upset.  
  
 _‘I didn’t raise you to be…like this,’ his father had said, and Blaine had known what had been in his mind, the words he'd been thinking; fag or a homo or queer._  
  
“I’ve just tried, my whole life, to make them proud. They were never happy with any of my achievements, I could never get it right, so I tried harder and harder, and all I wanted-- and now, I can’t undo this. I can’t try again or try harder. It’s done. I’m gay, so I’m just like…a disappointment forever. Their only son—”  
  
“Blaine, no,” Kurt cuts in sharply. “I’m sorry your parents don’t understand, believe me, I want more than anything to make them, for you, but you are not a disappointment. Not on any level. No parent could ask for a better son.” Kurt slides his hand from Blaine’s hair to his jaw, making sure he’s looking at him. “They’re in the wrong, not you. Don’t look at yourself through their eyes.”  
  
“Whose, then?” Blaine asks, voice barely audible. “I can’t just find a new family.”  
  
“Then…make me your family,” Kurt says. “Listen to me, not them, because I know the truth. You’re smart, funny, and talented. You’re the kindest person I know. You have to be, to put up with those nerds in glee.” He smiles, and Blaine can’t help but try and return it. “And to put up with me.”  
  
“Shut up, Kurt,” Blaine says, eyes downcast with a small smile. It’s hard to look at Kurt, his heart is pounding so hard.  
  
“It’s true, Blaine.” Kurt shifts closer, curling Blaine into his side. Blaine tries to resist at first, even tries to push Kurt away, but Kurt’s hold only tightens, and Blaine finds himself giving in. Kurt slides them both down so they’re no longer sitting. “Get some sleep. Hopefully things won’t feel so hopeless in the morning, hm?”  
  
Blaine nods and tries to look up, but Kurt has him using his chest as a pillow. He doesn’t know what to do with his arm, so he curls his hand in the blanket and lets it rest on Kurt’s stomach. Kurt is warm and the bed is comfortable, and any other night Blaine would never be able to sleep curled up against Kurt like this. They’ve shared his bed before, but never so close. Blaine is exhausted, though, physically and emotionally, and it isn’t long after he closes his eyes that sleep takes him.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine wakes to the gentle press of fingers on his neck. He opens his eyes, confused, and finds Kurt gazing at him. Kurt’s lying on his side, facing Blaine, and slowly withdraws his hand.  
  
“You’re bruised,” Kurt says in explanation.  
  
Blaine raises his own hand to his neck. “Karofsky.”  
  
There’s a flash of anger on Kurt’s face, but Blaine can see him push it down. A long moment passes, and Blaine lets it, warm in bed, here with Kurt.  
  
“I told my dad,” Kurt finally says.  
  
“That’s okay,” Blaine says, because honestly he didn’t expect Kurt not to.  
  
“No, I mean…” Kurt swallows, sucks his lower lip into his mouth a moment. “I came out.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” Blaine sits up, a tentatively excited smile forming on his face. “When?”  
  
“This morning. Like a half hour ago.” Kurt drags himself up as well, but doesn’t look happy. He looks anything but.  
  
“Kurt?” Blaine prompts. “Was he mad?” Blaine can’t imagine it, but he doesn’t know what else to think with the look on Kurt’s face.  
  
“No…he said he knew. He didn’t care. I’m  _sorry_ , Blaine. I did it because of you. You’d been so brave, I thought…if you can do it, so can I. I wanted to because of you,” Kurt says, and it’s all coming out in a rush. “Like solidarity, or—“  
  
“Kurt, stop—Kurt. Why are you sorry?” Blaine asks, because god, he’s touched that Kurt would be inspired by his mess. If anything he thought it would only make Kurt  _more_  reluctant.  
  
“Because it’s not  _fair_ ,” Kurt says. “You deserve to have the understanding parent. I’ve known and hidden like a coward, I’ve been mean, and all you’ve ever been is honest. How does this make sense?”  
  
“Kurt, no…hiding wasn’t cowardly,” Blaine admonishes. “You had every right to be scared. God, Kurt, I probably wouldn’t have told them a thing until I was moved out at college if I hadn’t felt like I had to. You deserve your dad. You’re good to him. And you’re being honest now, aren’t you?”  
  
Kurt doesn’t say anything at first, palms pressed to his forehead. He looks up at Blaine. “I just want good things for you.”  
  
Blaine can feel a fluttering in his chest he’s come to associate with Kurt. “And I want them for you,” he says gently.  
  
“My dad would adopt you, you know,” Kurt says.  
  
Blaine almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of that statement, because the weight of it, when taken seriously, is too much, and Blaine feels like he’s done enough crying for a lifetime. “Does that mean I’d have to start calling you brother?”  
  
“Brother from another mother.”  
  
Blaine laughs, imagining it.  
  
The tension mostly gone, Blaine washes up and they go downstairs for breakfast. Kurt made it, this time, and Blaine can’t help but feel a little amused that the both of them came out to Burt during breakfast preparation.  
  
Burt seems happy enough to see him, and he must not mind too much that Blaine’s there, because he ends up staying over the entire weekend. He doesn’t mean to, but Kurt keeps insisting, and it isn’t like he’s in any hurry to return home.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine is nervous to return to school.  
  
He’s been assured Karofsky has been suspended, expulsion pending, but Karofsky has friends and Blaine has no idea who knows what. Kurt seems reluctant to leave his side, and Blaine can’t help but wonder what he’s going to say to Azimio and Puck and the rest. Kurt hasn’t talked about it and Blaine can’t bring himself to ask.  
  
Mid-morning, when Blaine is alone at his locker switching his books out, Azimio corners him.  
  
“Heard you got my boy suspended, Anderson,” he says.  
  
Karofsky’s always been the more physically violent one of the group, but that doesn’t mean Blaine trusts Azimio to keep his cool. Still, Blaine can’t keep his mouth shut.  
  
“He got _himself_ suspended.”  
  
“’Cause you were tryin to mack on him? That’s just  _wrong_ , Anderson. Keep your homo urges to your glee club queers,” Azimio says.  
  
Blaine is surprised Karofsky told Azimio about the kiss. Maybe he thought Blaine would tell, so he wanted to turn it around on him? The kiss is not something Blaine wants anyone to know, and he slams his locker door closed in frustration.  
  
“You’ve got your information wrong, I wouldn’t kiss that creep if he was the last guy on Earth,” Blaine snaps. He tries to walk away to his next class, but Azimio follows.  
  
“That’s not what Karofsky said.”  
  
“Are you going to follow me around like a lost puppy all day, Azimio, or are you just trying to make new friends?” Blaine asks, walking a little faster.  
  
“All I’m sayin is your ass is done for when Karofsky comes back,” Azimio says.  
  
Blaine spins on his heel. “What, you don’t want to take care of it for him? Since you’re so interested in my  _ass_  and all.”  
  
Azimio recoils. “Don’t get freaky on  _me_ , dwarf. I’ll introduce your face to my friend the brick wall.”  
  
“Of course your friend is a brick wall, it matches your intelligence level.”  
  
Blaine stops short. He didn't say that.  
  
He turns to see Kurt giving Azimio a scathing look from behind him.  
  
“What crawled up your ass, Hummel?” Azimio says, defensive. “Hope it wasn’t Anderson here.”  
  
Kurt looks like he’s ready to kill. “Good one, Azimio. I’m impressed. What’s even more impressive is you picking on someone after Karofsky got suspended. Very smart.”  
  
“What is  _with_  you? Have you hopped on the Homo Express?” Azimio snorts.  
  
Kurt shoves Azimio into the wall, which is impressive considering Azimio probably has something like two hundred pounds on him. “Fuck _off_ , I swear to  _god_ —”  
  
“ _Kurt_!” Blaine cuts in, grabbing at Kurt’s arm.  
  
Kurt grunts in annoyance and shakes Blaine off, but steps back, posture still threatening. “Fine.”  
  
Azimio barks out a laugh. “What is this? You a full-fledged fag, Hummel?” He whistles low, and Blaine has to physically hold Kurt back.  
  
“Stop, just stop, Kurt—”  
  
“--I will feed you your  _teeth_ , Azimio—”  
  
“ _Boys_!” It’s the Geometry teacher, who’s old as dirt and stands about a foot shorter than Blaine. The look on her face could stop a bear in its tracks. “Just  _what_  are you doing?”  
  
Blaine lets go of Kurt, and he’s the first to speak up. “Nothing, Mrs. Bletheim. Sorry.”  
   
Kurt and Azimio don’t say a thing as Mrs. Bletheim stares them down. “Well? Move along, then!”  
   
Azimio rolls his eyes and walks off in the opposite direction. Blaine glances at Kurt, and follows him. “Are you okay?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet.  
   
“Yeah. I mean, I’m pissed off, but I knew this would happen,” Kurt says. He sighs, and looks over at Blaine. “Are you?”  
   
Blaine nods, but he can’t manage anything but a frown. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for standing up for me, but I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to take crap from them.”  
   
“I’m done pretending. I don’t care anymore,” Kurt says. He shrugs and shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other. “I’m not ready to come out, but I’m not going to act like their friend.” He stops walking and turns to Blaine with a smile. “ _You’re_  my friend.”  
   
Blaine smiles and blushes and looks down. What  _is_  this? Why can’t he stop feeling like this? “Okay…”  
   
“And this is your class,” Kurt says, indicating the door they’ve stopped in front of, and Blaine can tell he’s trying not to laugh.  
   
“…Oh. Right.” Blaine does laugh, mostly to kill the weird tension that seems to be all of his own making. “See you later.”  
   
“See you,” Kurt says, and disappears around the corner to get to his own class.  
   
Blaine walks into the room on autopilot. He gets in just as the bell rings and barely even registers his desk when he sits down at it. He can’t stop remembering the way Kurt said it,  _you’re my friend_. Like Blaine is the only important person in the world. He can’t stop  _smiling_. Doesn’t notice it at first, just knows when his cheeks start to ache a little. About a half hour into class Blaine realizes the teacher is talking, has been talking, and he’s even been taking notes, which…when he looks down at them, sees they are nothing but mindless doodles. Okay…  
   
His pocket vibrates, and with as much stealth as he can, he reaches down to check it (and put it on silent). There’s a feeling of anticipation that plummets when he sees the name on the screen isn’t Kurt’s.  
   
He’s staring stupidly down at his phone when it hits him.  
   
He’s in love with Kurt.  
   
He knows it’s true, especially after the weekend. After such a devastating turn with his parents, to feel as good as he did over at Kurt’s house? He’s hardly even let himself think about his father. All he has thought about has been Kurt’s sweet, calming voice, eyes the color of a golden universe in the middle of sky, smooth skin, and arms unafraid to hold him when he’s upset.  
   
…Oh god. He's comparing Kurt's eyes to things. He has it  _bad_.  
   
But Kurt has been there for him in a way no one else has, in a way he doesn’t want anyone else to be. Blaine knows without having to be told that Kurt cares about him,  _him_ , just as easily as he knows he loves Kurt.  
   
He smiles down at his notes and forgets to reply to the text.


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine is still floating on cloud  _I Love Kurt_  at lunch. As soon as he sits down at his usual table, the members of New Directions  _barrage_  him with questions about what went down on Friday. He was able to talk to a few of them in homeroom, but nothing too in depth, and being the nosy group they are, they want specifics.  
   
“—Are you okay?—”  
   
“—I heard Karofsky beat you up because you pelted him with eggs—”  
   
“—Where would Blaine get eggs?—”  
   
“—I heard Blaine was singing to him—”  
   
“—Stacy in Chem said Karofsky trapped you in a locker!—”  
   
“—I like eggs, they have baby birds in them--”  
   
“--Karofsky said you kissed him,” Santana says, looking very much like the cat that got the cream.  
   
Blaine scowls. Good mood, gone. “Karofsky is delusional.”  
   
“That’s what Puck said,” Santana says in a sing-song voice.  
   
“I don’t care what any of them say, why would I try to kiss someone who’s done nothing but make my life miserable?” Blaine challenges, glaring up at Santana.  
   
“Defensive much?” Santana shrugs a bare shoulder, looking like she could care less. “Maybe you’re into S&M, how would I know?”  
   
“I love those,” Brittany says.  
   
Santana and Blaine look at her.  
   
“The peanut ones,” Brittany adds.  
   
“Look,” Blaine says, “I didn’t kiss him. He bashed my face into my locker door, I got angry and went after him, we got into a fight, I told Figgins. The end.”  
   
Santana snickers. “I can’t believe you snitched.”  
   
“Santana, isn’t there some other table that would love to have you?” Rachel snaps, arms folded. “The Cheerios? Puck?  _Satan_?”  
   
Santana rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ve spent enough time in Smurf village for the day, anyhow,” she says, giving Rachel and Blaine sugar-sweet smiles before departing with a brisk whip of her skirt.  
   
“ _Ugh_ ,” Rachel says. “If she didn’t have such an amazing voice I would lock her out of every single glee meeting.”  
   
“That’s okay,” Blaine says. “Azimio already gave me crap. It’s not like I didn’t expect it after what went down with Karofsky.”  
   
“Karofsky just hates that you fight back," Artie says with a sage nod. "Which is what makes you so badass, yo. If that had been me? I’d have just cried."  
   
Blaine laughs. “No way, Artie, you’re a beast.”  
   
The table dissolves into what they would have done in Blaine’s situation, or what they’d  _like_  to do to Karofsky, when Blaine looks across the room and notices Kurt. He isn’t at his usual table with Azimio and Puck, he’s at a table in the corner by himself.  
   
Blaine is standing before he even realizes it, and Rachel gives him a questioning look. “Um, I’ll be right back,” he says, and winds his way around students and lunch tables until he reaches Kurt.  
   
“Hey,” Blaine says with a smile. “What are you doing over here?”  
   
Kurt smirks up at him and indicates his lunch tray with his fork. “Eating?”  
   
“Well, yeah, but…” He glances over at Kurt’s former table. “I guess you meant what you said. You aren’t even talking to them.”  
   
“I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you, I don’t like them,” Kurt says, tipping back in his chair.  
   
Blaine purses his lips. “Come eat with me, then.”  
   
“With your glee club?” Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow.  
   
“Sure, why not?” Blaine asks.  
   
“There are so many reasons.”  
   
“Please?” Blaine gives Kurt his widest, cutest smile, as if this will somehow help entice him.  
   
Kurt sighs. “Fine. They aren’t going to like it, though.” He stands and picks up his tray.  
   
“Pfft, why not?” Blaine asks, leading Kurt over.  
  
“I think you’ve forgotten who I am?” Kurt says.  
   
And indeed, Blaine does seem to have forgotten who Kurt is. Or at least how much the others hate him, because when he reaches the table with Kurt in tow, the entire table is either looking at Blaine as though he’s lost his mind, or glaring at Kurt.  
   
“Hey, um,” Blaine starts to say, startled by their chilly reception. “This is—”  
   
“Is he holding you hostage?” Rachel asks.  
   
“ _What_?”  
   
“Yes, I’m marching Blaine around the lunch room by threat of my plastic lunch tray,” Kurt says.  
   
“Look, dude, don’t mess with Blaine. He has a black belt,” Finn cuts in.  
   
“That’s racist,” Brittany says.  
   
“He’s not messing with me—”  
   
“I’m sorry, were you  _dropped on your head_  as a child?” Kurt says to Brittany.  
   
“Leave Brittany alone,” Artie snaps.  
   
“Yeah, what exactly are you doing here, anyway?” Mercedes asks. “You think you can take on all nine of us at once, skinny boy?”  
   
“Are you sure you’re counting right? Because between her ego,” Kurt jerks a thumb at Rachel, “and your  _crazy_ , I’d say there are at least double that.”  
   
“Oh _, hell_  to the no—”  
   
Rachel stands up. “--Excuse me, but you seem to have mistaken  _ego_  for  _talent_  and  _confidence_ , two things at which I excel. Not that you would know the meaning of the word, or understand talent when you see it, because all you are is a small-minded bully who thinks throwing slushies at other people makes you better than them! Well guess what? It doesn’t. It just makes you  _pathetic_.”  
   
Kurt laughs. “ _I’m_  pathetic? Look who you’re dating, Miss Coco Peru, the school’s  _dumbest_  jock, which is saying something. And if you think singing badly, matching paisley and stripes, and joining every single loser club at this school means you're  _talented_ , you’re  _wrong_.”  
   
“Hey,” Finn pipes up, “did he mean me?”  
   
“ _They’re not dating_ ,” Quinn snaps.  
   
“Oh, right,” Kurt says, like he didn’t actually know, and gives Rachel a fake apologetic smile. She looks absolutely humiliated, and Blaine can’t believe how fast this went wrong.  
   
“ _Kurt_ , Jesus. Guys! Stop! Kurt isn’t going to do anything—”  
   
But too much shit has already been slung, and Kurt’s edging his way out. “Screw it,” he says. “See you later, Blaine.”  
   
“Kurt—”  
   
But he’s already on his way out. Blaine watches him go with a helpless frown, and looks back to his friends to find them staring at him in varying cases of confusion and anger.  
   
“What. Was that?” Tina asks.  
   
Blaine sighs and sits down. “You guys couldn’t have even given him a chance?”  
   
“Why would we do that?” Rachel asks, her voice reaching an unusual pitch. “Did you hear the things he said?”  
   
“Have you lost your mind, Blaine?” Mercedes asks.  
   
“No. Look. He’s my friend,” Blaine says.  
   
There’s a moment of complete silence.  
   
“Kurt  _Hummel_?” Mike says.  
   
Blaine nods.  
   
“Your  _friend_?”  
   
“Since when?” Mercedes adds.  
   
“Glee club,” Rachel says, standing and holding a finger up, “if you’ll just excuse us for a minute, please.” She walks briskly to Blaine’s side of the table and motions for him to stand, linking arms with him and leading him away.  
   
“--Why does she always treat our lunch group like it’s a glee club meeting?” Blaine hears Mercedes asking as they walk off.  
   
“What are you doing?” Blaine asks, still annoyed by how things went with Kurt and his other friends.  
   
“ _Blaine_ ,” Rachel says, the beginning of an almost maniacal smile forming on her face.  
   
“ _Rachel_?”  
   
“Are you involved in a secret affair with Kurt Hummel?” she asks, eyes bright and locked on his.  
   
Blaine sputters. “What!?”  
   
Rachel just stares at him.  
   
“I—excuse me, but Kurt isn’t gay—”  
   
Rachel looks skyward. “Blaine, please. What did I tell you? I have  _amazing_  gaydar.”  
   
Blaine knows he’s blushing and dearly wishes he wasn’t. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to out Kurt, but if Rachel is already convinced, she’s going to be impossible to argue with. “Fine, Rachel,” he says in a hushed voice, “he is. But please,  _please_  don’t tell anyone. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”  
   
“Oh my  _god_!” Rachel squeals, hands balled in front of her mouth. “Blaine!” She quiets her voice, standing up on her tip toes to whisper dramatically at him. “This is so exciting! I know exactly what you’re going through! I dated a boy from our rival glee club and I had to keep it secret because New Directions thought I was being a traitor. It was kind of exciting, having secret rendezvous--”  
   
“I’m not dating him!” Blaine hisses, embarrassed. “We’re just friends. He told me he was gay. We relate to each other. That’s it.”  
   
“Oh.” Rachel’s looking at him with an incredibly sad expression.  
   
“ _What_?”  
   
“You like him, don’t you?” she asks.  
   
“No!” Blaine realizes he’s protesting too hard after the fact and bites his lower lip. “I mean…” He flounders, then looks at her with purposeful intensity. “Do you promise not to say anything? To anyone?”  
   
“Blaine. I would never tell the secrets of your heart,” Rachel says.  
  
“The secrets of my--?  _Rachel_ , it’s…”  _I love him_. “I just like him,” Blaine says, spreading his arms a moment. “l’ll get over it.”  
   
“He doesn’t return your feelings?”  
   
Blaine makes a face. “I haven’t told him.”  
   
“Have you even tried flirting with him?” Rachel asks.  
   
“Not exactly. I don’t want to screw up our friendship, you know? I’m pretty much the only friend he has. And he’s the only one like me. Our friendship is too important to risk it,” he tries to explain. “Plus, he has a type. And I am very much  _not_  it.”  
   
“True love doesn’t have a type,” Rachel says, her voice sing-song and happy. Blaine just groans and drops it.  
   
\----  
  
Blaine doesn’t see Kurt in the lunch room when Rachel finishes her inquisition, so he sends a text. Kurt replies that he’s outside, and Blaine finds him alone at one of the tables in the outer courtyard.  
   
“Sorry,” Blaine says in greeting.  
   
“Don’t be. I didn’t expect them to want me there. Anyway, I was kind of a jerk myself,” Kurt says without looking up from his classwork.  
   
Blaine sighs and sits down. “I didn’t think it’d be such a  _thing_.”  
   
Kurt smirks. “They’re your show choir friends. I think dramatic is in their nature.”  
   
“Very funny.” Blaine rubs his hands together against the cold. “I’ll just sit with you at lunch, then.”  
   
Kurt looks up and there’s a teasing smile on his face. “Don’t you see enough of me?”  
   
Blaine doesn’t know what to say to that.  _No_  seems a bit much, and  _yes_  is a lie. Not that he isn’t already lying to Kurt about a few things.  
   
“It just sucks to sit alone.”  
   
“Such a thoughtful friend,” Kurt says, soft and melodic. There’s a moment and something seems to register on Kurt’s face. His expression turns stern. “Okay, where is your coat?”  
   
“My locker,” Blaine says.  
   
Kurt takes Blaine’s hands between his and rubs. “You are freezing! Blaine, I swear, your mind is on another planet half the time.”  
   
Blaine doesn’t mind the scolding, because Kurt’s hands, gloved but for the fingertips, send the tiniest shivers up his arms every time there’s a brush of skin against skin. Kurt’s leaning close, eyelashes fanned out along his cheeks, which are flushed from the cold. He smells like spearmint, and in a way he looks like a creature of winter, something beautiful and delicate.  
   
Kurt looks up when Blaine doesn’t reply, and Blaine looks into his eyes, so lovely and close, and can’t say anything at all. Kurt doesn’t say anything, either, and Blaine swears they just look at each other for a decades-long moment, Kurt’s hands having stopped in their efforts at some point along the way.  
   
“Blaine…”  
   
Blaine opens his mouth and makes the effort. “Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper.  
   
Kurt is about to reply when another boy sits down next to Kurt and startles them both. “ _There_  you are. You’re harder to find than a four leaf clover."  
   
And the moment is gone.  
   
“Oh, Rory. Sorry. It completely slipped my mind that we were meeting at lunch,” Kurt says, and  _who is Rory and why is Kurt being so friendly with him?_  
   
“The only Irish bloke in all of Ohio, probably, and I’m forgettable! Oy,” Rory says, and Blaine can tell he’s teasing, and Kurt actually  _smiles at him_.  
   
“No, I swear, it’s just because I was so hungry,” Kurt says, putting his hands up in surrender.  
   
Blaine’s had enough. He moves to stand, clearing his throat a little. “I’ll see you later, Kurt.”  
   
Kurt flashes a slightly confused smile his way. “Okay. Bye, Blaine.” The Rory kid just kind of looks at him, and Blaine doesn't even try to hide his annoyance as he walks off.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine and Kurt meet up after school for Blaine’s French tutoring. Each lesson is becoming shorter and shorter as they tend to dissolve into conversation or flipping through fashion magazines or impromptu karaoke sessions. Once, Blaine brought his karaoke machine to Kurt’s house, and there it has remained. Ever since Blaine came out to his parents he spends as little time at home as possible, and he doesn’t bring Kurt over at all. Kurt hasn’t said anything, and they make good use of the machine (sometimes to the point where Burt, downstairs, will bang a broom handle against the ceiling to signal he’s had enough of cheesy 80’s duets and Broadway numbers).  
   
They have such a good time that Blaine doesn’t think about Rory at all, his mind full up with Kurt. He soaks it in, each time a hand or an arm would brush, the sound Kurt’s laughter made, his smiles and the way his eyes slanted when something was especially funny.  
   
It isn’t until the next day when Blaine waits and waits and waits for Kurt to come into the lunchroom and he doesn’t, that Blaine wonders. He sends a text in his impatience.  
   
 **B:**  where are you?  
   
 **K:**  In the library studying with Rory.  
   
Blaine feels his face grow hot with jealousy.  
   
 **B:**  you could have let me know  
   
 **K:**  Sorry? You have your friends to sit with, I didn’t think it would matter.  
   
Blaine is so inexplicably angry he doesn’t reply. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and stares down at his rapidly cooling macaroni and cheese. God, the lunch food at this school is  _abhorrent_.  
   
Maybe five minutes later, Blaine gets another text.  
   
 **K:**  Are you mad at me?  
   
 _Is he--?_  The text only makes Blaine more angry, and he quickly types back:  _no I’m just busy with my friends_. In his mind he’s underlined ‘friends.’ Plural. People who are not you. Take that, Kurt Hummel.  
   
But he isn’t. He hasn’t heard one word any of them have said as they chatter around him. He hasn’t said a thing, hasn’t eaten a bite. He tries to pay attention now, wincing at a particularly loud peal of laughter. It’s Quinn, laughing at something Finn’s said, and Blaine catches Rachel’s look of hurt. He frowns sympathetically at her.  
   
What if Rory’s gay? He’s cute and he has an  _accent_  and why wouldn’t Kurt like him? But it isn’t even just that, it’s that  _Blaine_  is Kurt’s friend. No one else. Blaine is the only one Kurt smiles at like that and spends one on one time with. Sure, Blaine wants Kurt to make friends with New Directions, but that’s because he knows them. Because he hadn’t considered the possibility of any of them taking Kurt away from him.  
   
And wow, this is bad. Because he is being really selfish and really unfair. At least these thoughts are just that, at least he hasn’t acted on them. Kurt deserves friends, and god, he deserves to have someone…special. Even if it isn’t Blaine, and even if it would kill him to watch it happen. To know Kurt would rather be with someone else.  
   
Blaine grabs his satchel and starts looking for a mirror, and—wait, god, why would he have a mirror? He really is going crazy. He just wants to look at himself, like he can’t even remember his own face. Is he cute or handsome? Is he appealing, generally?  
   
Blaine looks around the table for the best candidate of advice-giving. He chews at his lower lip and considers each one.  
   
“Rachel,” he finally hisses, nudging her ankle under the table. She gives him a questioning look. He stands and motions for her to follow.  
   
When he has her away from the table he asks, “Can I talk to you in the choir room?”  
  
\----  
  
Blaine is sitting in the choir room across a panel of very harsh judges.  
   
“He needs more bling,” Brittany says.  
   
When Blaine asked Rachel how he could make himself look better she had called the entire female ratio of New Directions into the Choir Room. It’s like Project Blaine, and is more than a little unnerving.  
   
“Less gel,” Mercedes adds.  
   
“Have you ever considered not wearing a bowtie?” Tina asks.  
   
“Or plaid?” Quinn says.  
   
“Or no clothes at all?” Santana says, and licks her lips.  
   
Blaine is starting to sweat. “Um…”  
   
Rachel taps her finger against her mouth. “Ladies! I think you’ll  _all_  agree with me when I say this calls for a shopping trip!”  
   
And that is how Blaine Anderson ends up at the mall with six shopping-crazed girls, each of them flitting around store after store finding their own versions of attire they think Blaine should wear. He actually almost makes Brittany cry when he refuses the three piece lavender suit she finds. No, he does not want goth chic (Tina), zebra stripes (Mercedes), or a sweater with puppies on it (god knows where Rachel even found such a thing). Quinn picks out something nice, but when he comes out of the dressing room they all decide he looks like he’s going on a job interview. Or to Sunday mass.  
   
“What exactly is this for?” Tina asks. “You didn’t say.”  
   
“Yeah, that does help in a make-over,” Mercedes says.  
   
“Well.” Blaine blushes a little, smoothing his hands down the button-up Quinn brought him. “There’s this  _guy_ …”  
   
Rachel’s jaw drops because she  _knows_ , and he makes a point not to look at her.  
   
There are  _oohs_  and squeals, and  _oh my god, who!?,_  and Santana speaks up above all of them. “Why didn’t you just say so, Anderson? Give me your size in jeans and five minutes,” she says, and once she has his measurements she disappears around the corner.  
   
Tina and Mercedes give each other a look.  
   
Rachel seems vaguely irritated. “If she brings back a pair of leather pants…”  
   
Santana returns and presses a stack of clothing in Blaine’s arms. “And you’ll wear socks with this, entienda?”  
   
Blaine changes into what Santana brought him and looks at himself in the mirror. The outfit consists of a simple cotton black v-neck shirt and a rather uncomfortably tight pair of jeans. Not skintight, but enough to hug his ass and thighs. It’s definitely not him. But then, isn’t that the point?  
   
When he leaves the changing room he’s greeted with widened eyes, a few tiny gasps, and an awed  _damn_. He can’t stop blushing, feeling weirdly exposed.  
   
“Am I a genius, or am I a genius?” Santana preens.  
   
“You. Are a genius,” Tina agrees.  
   
Rachel rolls her eyes. “You’ve just dressed him up like  _Puck_. How unsurprising.”  
   
“Hey, it works,” Santana says. “ _You_  even made out with him, didn’t you?”  
   
Blaine grins in surprise. “Oh, really? Puck?”  
   
Rachel blushes and huffs. “He was being uncharacteristically charming!” She folds her arms and gives him a prim look. “It didn’t last. We’re from two different worlds.”  
   
“Right,” Santana says sarcastically. “The hood and the Never Neverland.”  
   
“—If you’re likening me to a  _pirate_ —”  
   
“--Seriously, you dress like a five year old librarian—”  
   
“—Ever heard of  _sexy_  librarian?—”  
   
“--Yeah, and all of  _that_? Not it—”  
   
Rachel and Santana bicker for most of the rest of their shopping trip. Regardless, Santana finds Blaine a pair of heavy black boots to go with his new outfit and gives him explicit instructions on how to do his hair. Most of it involves not using ‘ _an elephants’ weight in gel_ ,’ which gets a hardy ‘amen’ from Mercedes.  
  
\----  
  
When it’s time for school the next day, Blaine chickens out and wears his regular clothes. He's decided that black t-shirt Blaine will be plan B. Plan A for Get Kurt To Like Me is a little more dramatic, but involves less people. Which is how, at nine thirty at night, he finds himself driving over to Kurt’s house. It’s dark and snowing lightly, so Blaine parks at the curb and carefully picks his way up Kurt’s driveway and into the backyard. Kurt’s bedroom light is on, which should mean he’s in there. Like some dorky teenager from a John Hughe’s movie, Blaine tosses a stone at Kurt’s window to get his attention.  
   
Nothing happens, so he throws another.  
   
He sees a face press against the window, and a moment later it opens. Blaine sucks in a breath, pushing down on a sudden jolt of fear, embarrassment.  
   
“Blaine?” Kurt calls down. Blaine can just make out his face, his features softly illuminated from his bedroom light. “What are you doing?”  
   
“I wanted to tell you something,” Blaine says, peering through the dark and the falling snow.  
   
“Okay? Come inside, it’s snowing.”  
   
Blaine turns on the ipod boombox he brought with him. He hears Kurt protest a few more times, but he stops when Blaine starts to sing.  
   
 _"There’s no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard, no song that I could sing, but I can try for your heart…"_  
  
Blaine chances a look up at Kurt and finds him with his hands covering most of his face, fingers spread so he can peek through. Blaine can tell he’s grinning by the shape of his eyes, though, and a warm smile spreads across his face.  
   
“Blaine, are you for real?” Kurt asks during the interlude, voice high pitched.   
   
Blaine just smiles and launches into the next part of the song, keeping his gaze on Kurt, pouring his heart into each word.  
  
 _"And there is no, no song I could sing, and there is no combination of words I could say, but I will still tell you one thing, we're better together…"_  
   
Kurt applauds quietly and Blaine bows. He feels filled up with the look he put on Kurt’s face. It’s all he wanted to see. It’s all he ever wants to see, a smile on Kurt’s face that he put there.  
   
“You’re insane, you know that?” Kurt says, and there’s laughter in his voice.  
   
Blaine takes a step closer to the house, hope bubbling up in his chest. “It's been weird, lately. I just-- Do you forgive me?”  
   
“Of course! There’s nothing to forgive. Come up, you’re going to freeze!”  
   
Blaine beams at him, relieved. “I can't.”  
   
“What? Why?” Kurt calls, leaning out the window.  
   
Blaine shakes his head, still smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
   
“Blaine?”  
   
Blaine waves, already making his way back to the driveway. It went well, he thinks. Kurt liked the song, the way he was smiling was everything Blaine wanted. Blaine puts his ipod in the passenger seat of his car and closes the door, when he hears another door open and close. He turns and gets a look at a somewhat breathless Kurt Hummel before his arms are full of him.  
   
“Kurt…” Kurt is hugging him tight, and Blaine hugs back, allows himself the luxury of burying his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck. His heart beats faster.  _Is this it?_  
   
“Thank you for the song."  
   
Blaine feels himself blushing. “You’re welcome.”  
   
“Better be careful, or people will think you’re my boyfriend,” Kurt says, pulling back from the hug so Blaine can see his face. He plays with the zipper of Blaine's coat, looking up at him almost shyly.  
   
Now. Blaine needs to say something, he should say something. Kurt is standing so close, looks so happy and _free_. He knows now is the time, right now is the perfect moment. Three words, they should be easy to say to his best friend. “I’m sorry..."  
   
Kurt drops Blaine’s zipper and looks at him with a frown. “Sorry? ...Do you think that's how I'd feel?”  
   
“I-I don’t know,” Blaine says stupidly, knowing that he just missed his opportunity.  
   
Kurt shakes his head in something like disbelief, mouth parted but nothing coming out like he doesn’t know what to say. “…After?—”  
   
“No, it’s fine. I get it, Blaine. That’s how you feel.” Kurt’s walking backwards, he’s going to go back inside. Blaine needs to stop him, but his feet won’t comply. He messed it up. “Thanks for the song.”

"Kurt—"

"Kurt?" Burt is standing in the open doorway, looking at the both of them in confusion. "Hey Blaine. You okay? It's late."

"Hi, I'm fine," Blaine says, knowing the moment is completely lost. And anyway, Kurt is already going up the porch. "See you later..."

Blaine watches Kurt and his father talk for a moment, before Burt waves to Blaine and closes the door behind them.  
   
Kurt is gone and Blaine’s feet eventually remember how to move again. He gets into his car and drives. So, maybe he shouldn't have apologized, because being Kurt's boyfriend is nothing to apologize for - especially when he'd just serenaded him...but why did he bother Kurt so much? Between bouts of cursing himself for saying the wrong thing and wanting to pound his head against the steering wheel, he tries to come up with an answer. He obviously said the wrong thing, and he'll just have to go to Plan B.  
  
\----  
  
The next morning is a Friday; the weekend is upon him, but first, he has something to do.  
   
The song was the first part, so it’s on to plan B. Plan B is the black v-neck shirt, snug-fitting jeans, biker boots, and ungelled hair. (Well, maybe a  _little_  gel.)  
   
Blaine feels ridiculous. This really is not him, he’s going to stick out  _because_  it’s not him and what if it just makes Kurt laugh? If anything will appeal to Kurt, it’s a well-dressed man, and this is very biker chic. But he's not sure it's Kurt's style...  
   
Well, the jeans were expensive, anyway. And Santana liked it, and it  _does_  show off his ass. Blaine twists his body, trying to get a look at said ass in the mirror. He really hopes it’s looking good, anyway.  
   
Blaine turns up to school a few minutes late on purpose, not wanting to navigate the morning crowd in his new outfit. If Kurt laughs, at least he’ll have an excuse to go into the restroom and change. He stands outside homeroom and takes a deep breath.  
   
Now or never.  
   
Blaine creeps into the classroom. No one really looks up except Rachel, who gasps, eyes widening in excitement. Blaine makes a face at her trying to convey to her to  _calm down_ , when Kurt looks up. Kurt’s mouth doesn’t part, eyes don’t widen. There’s no laughter. Kurt is holding a pen, the end of it cushioned on his lower lip. His eyes travel the length of Blaine’s body and Blaine swears he can  _feel_  it.  
   
It’s like he stands there frozen for hours, but knows it’s just a moment. Blaine forces himself to move, sitting down in his usual spot between Rachel and Kurt. He doesn’t say anything, hopefully isn’t blushing, pretends it’s just like any other day.  
   
“ _Pssst_.” Rachel’s waving her hand in a  _come closer_  motion, so Blaine leans toward her desk. “You look  _amazing_ ,” she squeals.  
   
Quinn leans past Rachel and gives a thumbs up.  
   
“Shhh, shut up,” Blaine hisses, blushing and opening his Calc book to some random page to appear as though he is in a true state of aloofness.  
   
Enough time passes that Blaine wonders if Kurt is ignoring him, when he feels Kurt’s foot tapping at the leg of his desk. He turns to Kurt with what is probably an over-eager smile.  
   
“Run out of gel?” Kurt asks, smiling around his pen.  
   
Blaine raises a hand to his hair, self-conscious. He'd tamed the curls, but kept some volume to his hair. “I thought I’d try something new.”  
   
“New clothes, too,” Kurt says, looking down at his homework and writing something on his paper.  
   
“I just thought—”  
   
Kurt looks back over, eyebrow raised.  
   
He’s about to continue when the teacher calls him up to his desk.  
   
There’s a note from the Principal’s office. Blaine slowly gathers his things. Kurt is watching him, curious, but he has most of the class’ attention now and doesn’t want to make a point of singling Kurt out to say something before he leaves. He shrugs a shoulder at his friends before slipping out the door. As he makes his way to Figgins’ office he tries to run through all the things he could possibly be in trouble for. Try as he might, he can’t come up with anything. Maybe whatever Figgins has to say is a good thing? Maybe he’s going to be valedictorian! Or maybe he just has to move his car. Did he park in a teacher’s spot?  
   
Blaine checks in with the secretary, who sends him right back to Figgins’ office. Principal Figgins is waiting behind his desk, hands folded.  
   
“Blaine, I called you here because I have some unfortunate news,” Figgins says after they share pleasantries. Blaine feels his stomach drop. He knows exactly what Figgins is going to say in that moment. It’s like a shock of cold water. Why didn’t he see this coming? “Your case was taken to the school board, but due to lack of evidence, David’s strong denial, and his standing here at McKinley—”  
   
 “Lack of evidence?” Blaine repeats, cutting in. “What do they want, fingerprints?”  
   
“Now, Blaine, I do not doubt the validity of your claim, but I have no control over what the board decides,” Figgins sighs. “Effective Monday, David Karofsky’s suspension is over, and he will be permitted to return to McKinley.”  
  
\----  
  
Blaine walks to his next class on automatic. He knew this was a possibility, that there had always been a chance Karofsky’s expulsion wouldn’t hold. Now he’s well and truly screwed, because how is he expected to go up against a freshly pissed off David Karofsky? The guy has all the emotional stability of a volcano, and worse, something like two hundred pounds on him. It’s not like even if Blaine knew how to fight he’d stand a chance.  
   
Kurt texts when Blaine doesn’t, asking what happened. Blaine says he’ll tell him later, doesn’t want to tell him via sneaking texts during Calculus. Not that he can pay attention to the teacher anyway.  
   
They don’t get a chance to talk until lunch, when Kurt drags Blaine into an empty corner of the library.  
   
“I saw Azimio and Puck acting like they’d won the freaking Juvie of the Year award. He’s coming back, isn’t he?” Kurt says, eyes searching Blaine’s.  
   
Blaine lets out a long sigh. He’s secretly grateful Kurt figured it out and said it for him. “Yeah. The school board apparently doesn’t think my argument is enough to get him kicked out for good.”  
   
“I wish I could say I’m surprised.” Kurt frowns and looks away, and Blaine knows he’s angry, can tell just by the set of his shoulders.  
   
“Me too.” And somehow, Kurt’s anger bolsters him. It’s a serious problem for both of them; Blaine, quite obviously because he got Karofsky suspended and he  _knows_ , and Kurt, because he’s turned his back on all of them. Still, somehow it doesn’t seem so much like he’s drowning, now. “I guess we’ll just have to have each other’s backs.”  
   
Kurt’s eyes flick back to him and he smiles faintly. “I was thinking of making a shiv.”  
   
“Mace?”  
   
“Sai.”  
   
“Ninja stars, definitely.”  
   
“How about good ol’ nunchucks?”  
   
Blaine laughs. “I like that we’ve somehow turned into Ninja Turtles. Hey, you know, my folks are on a trip this weekend, you should come over and we can watch some self-defense videos on youtube.”  
   
“I have to finish my paper for Government or I'll put it off forever and end up working on it on Monday morning. How about tomorrow?”  
   
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Blaine says, trying not to look as giddy as he feels. “I’ll stock up on snacks.”  
   
“ _Blaine_.”  
   
“Remember my rule,” Blaine says in a sing-song voice.  
   
Kurt sighs. “’No diet on a weekend.’” He crosses his arms. “May I remind you, it isn’t a  _diet_. It’s called eating healthy. Also if it  _was_  a diet, you can’t just stop on weekends.”  
   
“Same thing.” Blaine grins. “Now come on, let’s go get some lunch before everything halfway edible is gone.”


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine stops by the grocery store on the way home and uses his dad’s credit card to buy a cart full of truly awful sugary and salty food. There’s enough for a full-blown party, and he entertains the idea of having New Directions over, too. Maybe then they could get to know Kurt and see him the way Blaine does. Well, mostly how he does.  
  
He gets a text from Mercedes while he’s stocking the fridge, inviting him over for a girl’s night, and he replies to remind her that even though he’s gay that doesn’t mean he is a girl. She says as long as he isn’t staring lewdly at the girls in their pajamas, it counts.  
  
He gives in and goes over. The night is spent with him listening to them gossip and being bullied into singing cheesy romantic duets with them that somehow culminate with Tina spiking his hair into a mohawk.  
  
At some point it started snowing, and by the time he leaves, because Mercedes’ dad wasn’t down with him staying the night no matter how many times she told him he was gay and not a perv, the roads are already slick. Nothing on his way home appears to have been salted or plowed, so he drives extra slow and careful, even if at such a late hour there isn’t much traffic.  
  
Returning to an empty house doesn’t make him feel any more or less lonely than when his parents are home.  Nothing out of the ordinary happens until Blaine is reading in bed, eyes drooping, about two minutes from giving up and going to sleep, when the lights go out. His eyes open with a jolt, though the room is pitch black and silent and there’s nothing to see. His heart races and he feels like his lungs are constricting, like the whole room is closing in on him because there is not one light, and who turned them out? And oh god, what if someone cut the power because they know he’s alone and they’re going to rob him and what if they’re on their way up the stairs right now, and—  
  
Cutting his thoughts off mid-stream, Blaine fumbles for his phone on his bedside table, knocking something, he doesn’t know or care what, to the floor in his haste. He turns the phone on and there’s sudden light, casting shadows all around him. It isn’t enough to light the whole room, but it’s enough so he can make his way over to his window and open the curtains. It’s a little better, then, with the moon giving him light to see by.  
  
His heart is still racing, convinced something horrible is going to happen. He looks out, trying to determine if his entire block is without power, or if it's just his house. All he can see is the house behind his, and all the windows are dark. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but he can’t bring himself to leave his bedroom to look out the front window. He tries to think of the friends he knows who live near him. He thinks Tina is closest, but she’s at Mercedes’.  
  
Mercedes lives about a mile away, and it could just be his neighborhood out of power, but he tries her anyway. She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Blaine, what up?”  
  
“Mercedes,” he says, relieved even in some small way to hear her voice, “did your power go out?”  
  
“Mmhm, just a minute ago. Yours, too?”  
  
A flood of relief washes over him.  _Oh thank god_. “Yeah, I guess—” He realizes, staring out the window, that it’s still snowing. Heavier than when he was out earlier. “—I guess it’s the storm.”  
  
“Ugh, it’s a good thing you left when you did. You’d be stuck here, or you would’ve had a hell of a time driving in this with the street lights out.”  
  
“Yeah,” Blaine says, and tries desperately to think of a way to keep her on the line. He can hear the girls in the background laughing over something, and god, why hadn’t he just stayed, Mercedes’ dad be damned?  
  
“Well, boo, take care and keep warm.”  
  
Blaine frowns and nods, realizing belatedly she can’t see him. “Oh, yeah, you too, Mercedes.”  
  
They hang up and the fear is back, clawing up Blaine’s spine and leaving him chilled. He’s always been particularly ashamed of being afraid of the dark. It seems like one step above still peeing the bed. He would feel better if his parents were here, because every little noise makes him want to heave as he imagines everything from burglars to fictional monsters waiting in the shadows. He contemplates bringing Lord and Lady Gaga up to his room with him, but when he gathers enough courage to open his bedroom door, the sight of all that endless darkness makes him close it just as fast and hurry back into bed.  
  
He feels all of five years old again, and mentally berates himself for being so foolish. Still, he pulls his comforter over his head and curls up under his blankets, just like a child. He turns his phone on for some light, and near about pulls up his contact list to talk to someone, anyone, but he doesn’t want the phone to die and it’s already sixty percent there.  
  
Instead, he locks his eyes closed and tries to sleep. It’s dark when you sleep, so what’s the big deal, right?  He lays there, heart thudding, for what feels like hours, when he hears knocking at his window.  
  
Knocking. At his  _window_.  
  
Blaine tries to think of a logical explanation before freaking out, but there isn’t one. His window is on the second floor. There are no trees anywhere close to it, no gutters that he knows of. Which means it’s a ghost or a vampire. A vampire seems like the most obvious choice, the vampire has flown up here and any second now he’s going to ask to be invited in, and—  
  
“Blaine!”  
 _  
Oh god it knows his name_.  
  
“Blaaaaaine! Come on, it’s fucking cold and I’m going to fall and die!”  
  
Blaine peeks his head out from under his comforter, terror at the sight of a face pressed up against his window. It only lasts a moment because he recognizes who it is.  
  
“ _Kurt_!?” He scrambles out of bed, and goes to push the window up before realizing it’s locked. He quickly unlocks it and slides the window and storm glass up as high as he can, letting in a gust of frigid wind and a very snowy looking Kurt Hummel. “What—how did you—what are you doing here?”  
  
Kurt is smiling triumphantly, breathing hard, cheeks flushed and hair damp, snow falling in his wake. He closes the window when Blaine does not and starts to take his winter things off. “I remembered what you said, about being afraid of the dark, and when the power went out I just thought, poor Blaine, stuck in that big old house with nobody home, I bet he’s freaking out. So I drove over, and I was going to call but I left my phone at the house. I couldn’t see you through any of the downstairs windows, so I came into your backyard and there’s a picnic table, and this trellis thing up the back wall? I climbed it, and let me tell you, it’s a lot harder to do than you see in movies.”  
  
Blaine just stands there, looking at Kurt in awe. Never, ever, has someone gone to such lengths just to make sure he was okay. His heart feels ready to burst, and when Kurt finally stops talking, he can’t hold still anymore. He throws his arms around Kurt, holding tight. “You are the  _best thing_  I have  _ever_ seen.”  
  
Kurt laughs, Blaine can feel his body shake from it, and hugs back. “So it’s true, you really are afraid.”  
  
Blaine blushes and hides his face against Kurt’s chest a moment before pulling back. “When I was little I was playing Explorer and accidentally got locked in a tool shed for most of a day. No one knew I was there, and it was dark and smelled bad, and I just…” He pauses, shrugs, looking at Kurt’s collar. He can still smell it, sometimes, that shed, but doesn’t say so. “I always figured that’s where it came from."  
  
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Kurt says, giving Blaine’s waist a squeeze before stepping away altogether. “I just wasn’t sure how bad it was. I’m glad I came over.” Kurt smiles and moves to the window.  
  
“Me too,” Blaine says, watching silently as Kurt starts to pull the curtains closed.  
  
“Is this okay? It’ll help keep the warmth in, but if you want the light from the window—”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. “I feel better now that I’m not alone.”  
  
Kurt closes it all the way, throwing the room back into darkness. Blaine’s eyes start to adjust, and then there’s a beam of warm light coming from Kurt’s direction. “I brought a flashlight.”  
  
“You’ve thought of everything. You’re even in your pajamas.” Blaine sits down on the bed, and Kurt joins him.  
  
“I was already in them, dad and I were watching a movie.”  
  
There’s an awkward silence, which is kind of weird because it never feels like this between them. Maybe it’s the dark and how silent the world around them is.  
  
“Well, there isn’t much to do,” Blaine starts to say.  
  
“We should probably just go to bed,” Kurt says, the flashlight beam bouncing as he jiggles his leg.  
  
“Sure.” Blaine scoots to the end of the bed, unfolding the extra blankets at its foot, and lays them out over the comforter. Who knows how cold it’ll get without power. He supposes if it gets too bad they can move to the den and start a fire. He crawls under the blankets and Kurt follows suit, holding the flashlight between them.  
  
“It’s like camping,” Kurt says, his smiling face shadowed.  
  
“I’ve never been.”  
  
“Yeah? My mom and dad and I went when I was little, and then later just me and my dad,” Kurt says, not quite meeting Blaine’s eyes. “I can’t say it’s something I’d have much interest in now, though. All the dirt, and peeing behind bushes.”  
  
Blaine grins, just imagining Kurt in the wilderness. Flannel shirts and constructing tents. Actually, it’s kind of a nice mental picture. Sweet. “I wouldn’t mind.”  
  
“That’s because you’re such a  _boy_.”  
  
Something warm unfurls in Blaine’s chest at Kurt’s words. Kurt’s eyes are on his again, and Blaine nearly gets lost in them, such vibrant blues, even in the dark. He can hardly speak at first. “And you aren’t?” he asks, even if he knows what Kurt means.  
  
Kurt stretches like a cat. “I’d prefer a day at the spa.”  
  
Blaine laughs. “I do know of a girl’s sleepover happening right now, they’ve probably moved on to painting each others nails by candlelight if you’d rather be there.”  
  
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Kurt says, and just like that Blaine stomach does another pleasant flip. He knows he shouldn’t be taking what Kurt says so seriously, to imagine it having so much meaning behind it, but it’s hard not to feel a small flutter when he says things like that.  
  
“What’s up with your hair, by the way?” Kurt continues, smirking.  
  
Blaine blinks and reaches up, and oh yeah. Certainly his mohawk’s gotten a bit messy since Tina styled it, but she used so much gel it feels like there’s still some remnant of it left. He groans. “Mercedes was having a party and Tina decided I’d look hot with a mohawk.”  
  
Kurt’s tongue flicks out to lick the corner of his mouth and he stares at Blaine’s hair, as though deciding something. “Maybe with those clothes you had on earlier today.”  
  
Blaine flushes, part embarrassment, part arousal from the look in Kurt’s eyes. Which is one hundred percent made up, Blaine is sure. It’s just dark. Still, his reply is hard to form. “T-that was Santana’s idea.”  
  
“Do they often use you as their doll?”  
  
“No, they just…wanted to go shopping.” It sounds lame even to his ears.  
  
“Were you trying to impress someone?” Kurt asks.  
  
Blaine can’t move, let alone say anything. Kurt looks so serious, so completely serious, staring right at him like he  _knows_. When Blaine doesn’t reply, Kurt shuts the flashlight off with a click. “We should go to sleep,” he says, his voice barely there.  
  
Blaine’s breathing sounds too loud to his ears. He’s afraid to move because of the noise it will make, because he didn’t answer Kurt. Is this going to be another chance he’s not going to take, not even in the dark where it’s so easy to hide?  
  
He lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.  
  
“Yes.” It’s hardly more than a whisper, and there’s a small rustle next to him.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“I was.”  
  
“Who?” comes Kurt’s voice out of the darkness. Blaine bites into his lower lip, heart drumming an uneven rhythm he swears even Kurt must hear. “Blaine?”  
  
Blaine swallows around the dryness of his throat. “You.”  
  
There isn’t an answer at first. “Why? You know that isn’t who I am, not really.”  
  
Is he being deliberately obtuse, does he really want Blaine to spell it out? The spark of frustration is enough to answer with. “I wasn’t trying to look tough, I was trying to look  _good_.”  
  
There’s a click and the flashlight is on, but it must be pointing at their feet or something because there’s barely enough light to see by. Kurt props himself on his side, looking down at Blaine. “For me?”  
  
Everything is too hot, too much, Blaine can feel his eyes sting because he never should have opened his big mouth. “I don’t know how to make you like me like that,” he says in a rush, helpless against keeping the words from spilling from his mouth.  
  
Kurt’s eyes are wide in the dark. “I—”  
  
“ _Nevermind_ ,” Blaine cuts him off and starts to sit up, reaching for the flashlight so Kurt can’t  _see_ , but there’s a hand on his chest, and not a second later, lips pressed to his.  
  
The kiss doesn’t register at first and there’s an awkward moment when Blaine almost jerks away, but then he  _realizes_. Kurt is  _kissing_  him.  _Kurt is kissing him._  There’s a small noise, something like a sigh or whimper, his eyes fall closed and he kisses back. Kurt’s hand tightens in his shirt, but his mouth is so soft on Blaine’s, and it’s like every good feeling Blaine has ever had have all come together to fill every part of him. Every sense is heightened; every nerve-ending aware of all the places Kurt is touching him. Especially their mouths. Oh god, Kurt’s  _mouth_.  
  
Blaine can’t believe this is happening. Kurt is kissing him so tenderly, their lips touching and sliding against each other gently, the kiss an almost teasing thing. Everything is delicate and Blaine can’t breathe, can’t think anything but  _Kurt_.  
  
Kurt’s mouth opens over his and he parts his lips in turn, letting Kurt’s tongue in, sending a spike of heat down his whole body. His tongue meets Kurt’s with a moan, and just like that Kurt is pushing him back, climbing over him, kissing him hard and desperate and Blaine reaches up to hold on, saying without words  _yes, yes, this is exactly what I want_. It isn’t careful anymore, and he can feel Kurt’s need like a palpable thing, something in the air, something hot and stifling and perfect. Kurt’s hands are in his hair, holding him there to be kissed, tongue insistent and Blaine helpless against how amazing it all feels. Never was it like this with any of the girls he dated, not even a little.  
  
Kurt’s hand tugs at his hair, it should hurt but it  _doesn’t_ , and his hips jerk in response. He groans brokenly, his face is hot with embarrassment because he’s hard and Kurt is on top of him and he has to feel it.  
  
“Blaine,” Kurt’s voice is nothing but a gasp, his lips brushing against Blaine’s when he speaks. “Wanted this for so long…”  
  
“What?” Blaine says, wonders if he made it up in his head and wants to ask, but Kurt’s mouth is on his again and all he can do is moan and kiss him, and god he never wants to stop kissing him. Blaine’s hands move to Kurt’s face, fingers soft against Kurt’s skin, smooth like he’s always imagined it to be.  
  
Kurt’s face turns, kissing Blaine’s palm, sucking in short breaths through his nostrils. “We should stop.”  
  
“Why?” Blaine asks, not even trying to hide how terrible an idea that sounds.  
  
“Because.” Kurt purposefully shifts, and Blaine lets out an involuntary moan because  _fuck_ , Kurt is hard. He can feel him against his stomach, and it takes everything within Blaine’s power not to lock his legs around Kurt and just  _keep_  him there.  
  
“Me too,” he says, looking up at Kurt in the dim light.  
  
“I know.” Kurt climbs off him and Blaine would really like to throw propriety to the wind right now.  
  
Kurt stays on his side facing Blaine, and they’re so close, bodies still mostly touching. Kurt looks completely debauched, cheeks blotchy and pink, hair unruly, and his  _mouth_. His mouth is probably the same as ever, but Blaine likes to think it looks at least a little swollen, thinks it must feel as tingly and numb and wonderful as Blaine’s.  
  
Blaine slides his hand up Kurt’s arm, fingers trailing along his neck, his jaw and cheek. He lightly traces Kurt’s lips. Kurt’s eyes never leave his, and Blaine’s face warms under his gaze.  
  
“You like me,” Blaine says, smiling slowly.  
  
“I like you a  _lot_ ,” Kurt says, his voice coming out husky, evoking a tiny thrill. Kurt’s fingers bury themselves back in Blaine’s hair, heedless of the dry gel, and bring their faces together for another kiss.  
  
“I like you too,” Blaine says in a whisper between kisses, “so much.”

“How long have you liked me?” Blaine has to know, wondering how and when and why.

Kurt tries to hide his face in his pillow, suddenly shy. “Since forever.”

“Shut up,” Blaine laughs. “Seriously, how long?”  
  
Kurt’s shoulder gives a little shrug, he’s looking down and all Blaine can see of his eyes are his beautiful lashes. Everything about him is beautiful. “Since I first saw you, basically.”  
  
“You  _slushied_  me!”  
  
“I panicked!”  
  
“You’re lying,” Blaine says.  
  
“I’m not, I swear.” There is such grave surety in Kurt’s voice, even if he does still seem amused. “Look, I had the slushie ready to throw at someone to re-establish my number one asshole status. It was the start of a new school year, I had to make a point. And then you walked up to me and you were so cute that my first instinct was to get away as fast as possible. Except for how it wasn’t possible because everyone was  _right there_. So…I chose a worse sort of self-protection.” Kurt’s frowning now, his eyes conveying the level of guilt he must have been carrying around ever since.  
  
Blaine has long since gotten over how Kurt initially treated him. Blaine knows who he really is, and he doesn’t even do those things anymore. It seems like Kurt hasn’t fully forgiven himself, though.  
  
“I—actually, that’s kind of sweet—” Kurt’s _face_. Blaine hurries to explain himself. “Not that you  _slushied_  me. That you thought I was cute,” he says, unable to stop the blush he feels spreading across his cheeks. “I never would have thought you’d…um, find me attractive.”  
  
Kurt’s mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. “Are you  _kidding_  me?”  
  
Blaine blinks at the ferocity with which that’s said.  
  
“No, I’m serious. Blaine, why  _wouldn’t_  I be?”  
  
“ _Because_ ,” Blaine says, and huffs in frustration when that doesn’t seem to be answer enough for Kurt. “You like Vogue models, and that guy at the club? And Finn? I’m short and I like bowties and…” He shrugs a little. “I'm plain. Santana calls me  _Blanderson_.”  
  
“You are  _anything_  but plain,” Kurt says. “Blaine, you’re  _stunning_.”  
  
The conviction in Kurt’s voice makes Blaine’s stomach swoop and he looks away because it’s too much.  
  
“Blaine.” Kurt’s hands cup his face and he crosses what little distance is left between them. Blaine lets the heat of Kurt’s mouth replace the heat of embarrassment and worry. “My taste is impeccable. You know that, right?”  
  
Blaine’s finding it difficult to think at the moment, but the corners of his mouth curl up, an image of Kurt’s closet coming to mind. “Yeah.”  
  
“Then please believe me when I say—“ Kurt kisses him. “—that you are the most—“ His cheek. “—exquisite—“ His jaw. “—breathtaking—“ His neck. Kurt begins to suck until Blaine’s fingers fist in his shirt, and then he mouths his way up to Blaine’s ear and whispers in it, “-- _sexiest_  boy I have ever laid eyes on.”  
  
“ _Kurt_.” Blaine turns his face until his mouth connects with Kurt’s, until they’re kissing and Kurt’s beginning to lose the taste in his mouth because now they just taste like each other. He’s the one to tip Kurt back, this time, moving half on top of him, reaching under his shirt with one hand, dragging it along warm skin, trembling from how good it feels to touch, from how much more he  _wants_  to touch.  
  
“You’re beautiful, Kurt,” he says, breathing erratic and voice rough with feeling. “ _You’re_  beautiful.” His fingers stroke up Kurt’s side, over his ribs to his chest. He finds Kurt’s nipple with his finger and gives an experimental rub. Kurt keens, hips jerking up, and Blaine can feel he’s hard again, or still, or.  
  
Blaine has done some research since he realized he was gay. He found some websites. He found some  _videos_. Connecting the things he’s read and seen with what they’re doing now, with Kurt at  _all_ , is a surreal concept because this is  _right now_  and Kurt’s body is warm and pliant under his hands and the men in those videos did not seem at all like people. They were people-shaped, sure, but they were  _men_  and they knew exactly what they were doing. They could bend in ways Blaine never would imagine possible. In theory, he and Kurt could do all those things. In theory.  
  
“Shouldn’t we—shouldn’t we slow down, date first, or something?” Kurt’s panting shallowly, clutching at Blaine, leaning up to kiss him before he can even reply.  
  
“ _Mmm_ …” Blaine can _not_  resist his mouth, but manages to mumble. “We just went to a movie last week.”  
  
“You didn’t even hold my hand,” Kurt says, and bites at Blaine’s jaw.  
  
“’Cause you made me buy my own popcorn,” Blaine says. He rubs his thumb over Kurt’s nipple again, teases it, pinches it, can’t get enough of the sounds Kurt’s making because of  _him_.  
  
There is no witty comeback, just, “ _Blaine_ ,” and cursing, and Kurt’s hands move from Blaine’s back to his ass and squeeze. Blaine hisses and drops his head, crashing their mouths together. Kurt’s hips buck, rutting against him, and Blaine can feel  _everything_  through the thin layers of their pajama pants. Blaine coaxes Kurt’s tongue into his mouth, starts sucking at it like it’s something else, sucking in time with the thrusts of his own hips. Kurt is moaning so loudly, or maybe he is, maybe both of them, Blaine doesn’t know because he’s mindless from the friction, he can feel the pressure building, making his toes curl.  
  
Kurt tears his mouth away with a gasp and he’s  _shaking_. He moans Blaine’s name and his hips move erratically and suddenly he’s coming. Blaine can feel Kurt  _coming_. Kurt’s head is thrown back, the pale stretch of his neck taunt and eyes squeezed closed, fingers digging into Blaine’s ass to hold him there, hips flush, and  _jesus holy fucking shit_  this is the hottest thing Blaine has ever,  _ever_  seen.  
  
Kurt’s eyes open and he lets out this whimper and Blaine isn’t even aware one of Kurt’s hands has left his ass until he feels it cupping him. “ _Kurt_. Oh my god,  _Kurt_.” Blaine makes some kind of probably embarrassing noise and Kurt manages to stroke him over his pajamas once, twice, three times and he loses it, coming harder than he even thought possible.  
  
“Oh my god, oh my god,” he keeps saying, all but collapsing on top of Kurt when there’s nothing left in him. Kurt’s kissing his face and his hand hasn’t moved, is just holding him, possessive, while Blaine tries to remember how to  _breathe_.  
  
Blaine turns on his side, flush against Kurt without being on top of him, and Kurt’s still kissing any bit of skin he can so reverently that Blaine almost wants to cry. That felt better than anything he ever imagined. It felt  _right_. There have been times since he realized he was gay where he has questioned it, only because before Kurt he couldn’t remember feeling attracted to any guys, and there was this tiny shred of doubt. He’d wonder if he would really want the exact thing that just happened. Now that doubt seems so astonishingly ridiculous that Blaine knows it was nothing but fear of the unknown. How could anything to do with this amazing boy in his arms be wrong?  
  
Kurt’s mouth stills and they lay quietly nose to nose, breathing and heartbeats slowing.  
  
“I’m sweaty,” Blaine realizes. This gets a laugh out of Kurt, and Blaine tilts his head back enough that he can see him, smiling.  
  
“Is that all?” Kurt’s hand gives a gentle squeeze.  
  
“Hey—okay, sticky, too.”  
  
“ _Nasty_.” Kurt’s teases, looks so smug and pleased with himself it just makes Blaine love him even more.  
  
“All because of you.” Blaine waggles his eyebrows and gets Kurt to laugh again.  
  
“Dibs on the bathroom,” Kurt says, and rolls out of Blaine’s reach and off the bed, taking the flashlight with him.  
  
Blaine isn’t scared, though, and scoots up and out from under the sheets, smiling. Kurt leaves the bathroom door open a crack so the room isn’t left in total darkness. Blaine lays back in bed, eyelids heavy, his orgasm leaving him sated and sleepy.  
  
He slips into sleep and doesn’t even realize it until he’s woken up by Kurt however much later, hair damp and messy, wearing a pair of his pajama pants. Kurt is leaning over him, kissing along his jaw. “Your turn,” he says.  
  
Blaine leans up for a brief kiss before climbing out of bed. His shower is quick, he has no intention of leaving Kurt alone any longer than is absolutely necessary.  
  
Kurt’s awake, smiling up at him as he returns in clean pajamas with the flashlight. “You took way too long,” Kurt says. There’s a stilted moment of uncertainty when he slides back into bed where neither of them move, and it hits Blaine how new this is. He shifts closer and just like that it’s gone, melts away like their bodies into each other. Kurt tucks Blaine against his chest and nuzzles the back of Blaine’s neck, sending a pleasant shiver along his skin.  
  
“Did you just make me the little spoon?” Blaine asks.  
  
Kurt scoffs. “You’re shorter, it’s the rule.”  
  
“Where did you see that, the spooning handbook?”  
  
“Mmhm, says you have to bottom, too.”  
  
Blaine barks out a laugh. “Shut  _up_ , that is not how that works!”  
  
“Are you  _opposed_  to bottoming?” Kurt says with his mouth on Blaine’s ear.  
  
Blaine’s dick twitches and holy god he had no idea about this side of Kurt. “God no,” he says, and it comes out breathy and Kurt is making this  _gloating_  sound which somehow manages to sound really sexy and…crap. He needs to shut this down now if he doesn’t want to try sleeping through a hard-on. “No more talking.”  
  
Blaine can practically feel the smugness radiating from Kurt in waves. “Yes, sir.”  
  
Oh wait, no. That’s Kurt’s hand… _there_.  
  
“Kurt!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Be good! It’s like three in the morning!”  
  
“My dream just came true and you expect me to sleep?”  
  
Blaine blushes, his stomach giving yet another familiar swoop. “Yes I do,” he says, keeps his voice light but squeezes Kurt’s hand.  
  
Kurt kisses his still-damp hair. “Fine, fine.”  
  
“Good night, Kurt,” Blaine whispers.  
  
“Good night, Blaine.”  
  
It’s a minute or so before his heart calms down and exhaustion catches up with him. He’s asleep before he knows it, warm and happy in Kurt’s arms.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine wakes up first. At some point during the night, two things happened; one, the power came back, as his bedside lamp is on. Two, he moved, and now he’s lying on his side facing Kurt, which is perfectly fine with him, because what a nice sight to wake up to. Kurt’s sleeping so peacefully. His features look especially delicate, the point of his nose, the fan of his eyelashes, the pink of his lips, parted just so. His hair is tousled and fine, messy from drying as he slept, devoid of hairspray and Kurt’s almost obsessive styling.  
  
Blaine can’t help himself from running his fingers through it, combing it back. Kurt murmurs something nonsensical and stirs, eyes slowly blinking open. Kurt’s face lights up with a smile and Blaine’s heart skips a beat. He almost looks away, not yet used to being able to just  _look_  at Kurt because he wants to. He feels a rush of emotion at waking up next to Kurt like this, at  _having_ this.

 _My dream just came true.  
_  
“Morning,” Kurt says, trying to snuggle closer.  
  
Blaine wraps an arm around Kurt and kisses his temple, his soft hair, wondering how this can even be real. He never imagined he could be this happy. “Morning.”  
  
They stay in bed together until their bladders demand otherwise. It’s cold without Kurt in his arms, and he wonders if it’s unusual to need to touch someone as badly as he wants to be touching Kurt. Just a wrist or an elbow, it doesn’t matter, being without Kurt suddenly seems impossible.  
  
Teeth brushed, pajamas still on, they grab some cereal and sit together on the couch with Lord and Lady Gaga to watch Saturday morning cartoons. Well, more like Saturday  _afternoon_  cartoons. Kurt’s arm is around his waist, cereal bowl precariously balanced on a pillow in his lap, and Blaine is fairly sure he’s never been more content than he is in this moment.  
  
“Your taste in television programs is abhorrent,” Kurt says at one point.  
  
“Says the boy who’s obsessed with Gray’s Anatomy.”  
  
“Hey! That’s quality programming. Ratings don’t lie.”  
  
Blaine pretends to look thoughtful. “And the general population _is_ …”  
  
“Hmph.”  
  
And then there’s milk flicked at Blaine’s  _arm_ , and then there’s wrestling, and then they’re making out on the couch, cereal and TV forgotten.  
  
They make out most of the afternoon in between far less exciting things, like letting the dogs out to pee, answering the door after really incessant knocking (Jehovah’s Witnesses, and  _that_  had been interesting), a phone call to check in from Kurt’s dad, and a late lunch. Making out is really amazingly awesome, Blaine discovers, and he can’t seem to get enough of Kurt’s mouth.  
  
They don’t get as far as the previous night, at least not until late in the day when Blaine insists on seeing Kurt’s chest. Maybe his chest shouldn’t be such a big deal, guys are allowed to wander around shirtless, they’ve both been in the locker room after gym at the same time (though Blaine never let himself  _really_  look, not with so many other boys around). But now he  _needs_ to. Kurt’s always in so many layers, even when he’s just wearing a regular shirt at school, the weather has been so cold that there’s always a sweatshirt or a hoodie over it. But now...  
  
Blaine is straddling Kurt, who’s laying back against the couch all worked up and flushed pink. Blaine begins to unbutton Kurt’s pajama top, fingers moving excruciatingly slow, and Kurt makes a frustrated sound.  
  
“God, Blaine, what—"  
  
"Shh."  
  
"Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?” Kurt asks.  
  
“Shh,” Blaine says, trailing his fingers up the bared sliver of skin after each undone button.  
  
“—It’s not like I’m hiding a fantastic rack under here—”  
  
“Shh.”  
  
“—You’ve already felt me up anyway—”  
  
“Shh…”  
  
Blaine just likes to explore, and if he wants to make a big deal out of it, he will. When he gets to the top button and looks down into Kurt’s eyes he’s rewarded with the sight of widened pupils and heavy breathing, and  _this_  is why dragging it out is worth it.  
  
He pushes the shirt open, helps Kurt free his arms, and just  _looks_. Kurt’s chest is mostly hairless, lean and pale, curving into a slender waist. His nipples are a perfect brown-pink.  
  
“Are you just gonna  _look_?” Kurt asks, hips shifting, and Blaine knows he wants more. Neither of them have taken it to that point yet and it’s been hours of sporadic make-out sessions.  
  
“Maybe,” Blaine says, and grinds down a little.  
  
“Oh fuck me  _please_ …”  
  
“Listen to that mouth of yours.” Blaine’s palms skate up Kurt’s sides, fingers mapping a path from stomach to chest, avoiding his nipples except for brief, teasing sweeps. Kurt’s skin is so  _soft_.  
  
“Can’t help it,” Kurt says, hands curling behind his head. “You’re a bad influence.”  
  
“I never taught you these things.” Blaine bends to kiss along Kurt’s chest, hands pressing down on his shoulders.  
  
Kurt sucks in a breath. “I blame television and video games, then.”  
  
“What happened to innocent, romantic Kurt Hummel?”  
  
Kurt’s hands grip Blaine’s hair and  _pull_  and Blaine lets out a throaty moan. “I have this incredibly hot, tease of a boyfriend who won’t let me get off.”  
  
Blaine’s fingers tighten their hold on Kurt and he swirls his tongue around a nipple, moaning against his skin.  
  
“Ohgod _what_ …Blaine…”  
  
Blaine looks up, stops licking. “Mm?”  
  
“N-nothing…”  
  
Blaine resumes what he was doing, moves to the other nipple after a moment and does the same. “Feel good?” he asks, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin.  
  
Kurt keeps moving restlessly under him. “Yeah, just…god, is this normal?”  
  
“Dunno,” Blaine says, and starts to suck. That  _really_  gets his hair pulled, so he sucks harder.  
  
Kurt cries out and jerks his hips, humping up against Blaine. “No,” Blaine whispers. Kurt isn’t allowed to get off yet. Breathless, Blaine raises up and crawls down Kurt’s body, tugging his pants past his hips and out of the way. Kurt’s legs are covered with fine, light hair, and Blaine drags his hands up his thighs. A hum of appreciation. He slips his hand beneath Kurt’s boxer briefs, eliciting a startled sound and Blaine’s name repeated in a hushed, needy voice. Kurt’s cock is warm and sticky with pre-come and impossibly hard, but the skin is soft. It doesn’t feel like when he touches himself, not really. Blaine moves his hand along Kurt’s cock with feather-light, experimental touches, watching Kurt for a sign that this is too much.  Kurt looks so blissed out, Blaine can’t tell.  
  
“Is this okay?” he whispers.  
  
“ _Please_ ,” Kurt whimpers, eyebrows drawn up.  
  
“ _Kurt_.” Blaine lets go to lick his hand, spits on it, gets it as wet as he can and Kurt watches, squirms and waits. Blaine recovers his grip and moves his hand up, down, finds a rhythm and strokes. Kurt is anxious beneath him, covers his eyes with a hand. Blaine moves Kurt’s hand away by his wrist, holds it down beside his head. “I want to see your face when you come.”  
  
Kurt cries out, this helpless sound, and does just that, right then, and god if that isn’t the hottest thing  _ever_. He watches Kurt’s eyes unfocus as the orgasm takes hold, watches his mouth work around a moan. His hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes dark.  
  
“And you said  _I_  had a mouth,” Kurt says, still breathing hard.  
  
“I don’t know what’s come over me,” Blaine says, and he doesn’t. He feels mindless with need now that he has Kurt here with him like this.  
  
“It’s me,” Kurt says, pressing Blaine back into the couch. “I inspire dirty talk and even dirtier handjobs.”  
  
Blaine grins at Kurt, but it’s like looking through a haze. All he can feel is how hard he is, he  _aches_. “Please?”  
  
“Oh, your turn to beg, is it?” Kurt says, pulling Blaine’s shirt up and off, tossing it to points unknown. He runs his fingers through the hair on Blaine’s chest, and Blaine can’t even muster up a twinge of self-consciousness because he  _needs_. “Now it’s  _my_  turn to lick at you in naughty places and drive you mad.”  
  
“ _Kurt_ …”  
  
He’s so close already, he will never last.  
  
But Kurt’s head is already bent, and Blaine suspects the sudden blush along his cheeks is out of shyness or nervousness and not some post-jerkoff bliss, because when he reaches one of Blaine’s nipples only the tip of his tongue delves out. This tiny little kitten lick, and Blaine  _can’t_. He gasps and jerks and  _comes_ , untouched.  
  
Kurt sits up in shock. “What just happened?”  
  
Blaine groans helplessly and cups himself over his pants, too busy trying to remember how to breathe to answer.  
  
“Oh my god! I didn’t even get to touch you!”  
  
Kurt looks so  _affronted_  Blaine almost wants to laugh, but can’t. “I was too worked up.”  
  
“Blaine Anderson, we are going to have to work on your stamina.”  
  
“You’re hot when you’re all disapproving,” Blaine says. Kurt tries to look stern, but Blaine knows better and pulls him down to kiss his bitchface away.  
  
\----  
  
It isn’t much later when Burt calls again, inviting them both over for dinner.  _Apparently he thinks two teenage boys can’t feed themselves_ , Kurt tells Blaine, and then says he suspects it’s the other way around. Kurt suggests that Blaine bring the dogs and himself over to stay the night, and Blaine really can’t pass that up.  
  
As they get out of Kurt’s truck, Blaine wrangles the dogs with one hand and takes Kurt’s hand with the other. Kurt’s hand jerks away and he meets Blaine’s gaze with a look of surprise. “My dad will see—”  
  
“So?”  
  
“ _So_.”  
  
“But—he  _knows_ , so what’s the problem?”  
  
Kurt looks like he’s choking on something for a moment. “He knows that we’re  _gay_ , but he doesn’t know we’re…um…”  
  
Blaine frowns, trying and failing not to feel a pang of disappointment. “What, Kurt? You can’t even say it to me?”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Kurt says. His voice softens, something shy once more creeping in. “That you’re my boyfriend.”  
  
Blaine feels like a bit of an ass having reacted like that, and can’t help but smile to be called Kurt’s boyfriend officially. He feels  _elated_. “Sorry, this is new to me, too.”  
  
“I know. I know honesty is important to you, I do, but I’d rather we don’t tell my dad about this after we just came back from spending a night alone together, because I don’t know how he’ll react, and I’d prefer him not pulling a shotgun out on you or giving us a sex talk.  _Especially_  that second one—”  
  
“Rude _._ ”  
  
Kurt grins impishly. “I’ll tell him, I swear, but how about Sunday night when you aren’t there?”  
  
“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” Blaine says. “I’m fine to wait until you’re ready. We did just kind of jump into everything.”  
  
Kurt looks embarrassed. “We did, didn’t we? Usually couples date first.”  
  
“You and this  _dating_. I promise to take you out in all the elegance you deserve just as soon as I get the chance,” Blaine says, making Kurt smile so wide. “We’re friends, though, so it isn’t like we don’t know each other, and I’ve just—god, I  _dream_  of you, Kurt.”  
  
Kurt’s eyes go dark, and Blaine can’t even finish his statement, didn’t even mean to say it in the first place, not like that, but seriously, how had they even kept apart this long to begin with?  
  
“Me too.” Kurt looks like he wants to say more, and Blaine waits. Hums a question mark, urging him to continue. “You know, I’ve always been kind of…” His lips purse in thought. “Uncomfortable about intimacy.”  
  
Blaine’s mouth opens. And closes. And opens again. “Maybe we should talk about this later? In your room, or…just not in your front yard?”  
  
“Yeah. Sure, actually.” Kurt laughs a little. “Ugh. Come on, let’s go.”  
  
Dinner goes smoothly. There’s no reason it shouldn’t, of course, but there is some small worry in the back of Blaine’s mind that one of them will slip up, or that it will just show on their faces and Burt will know. Not that it’d be the end of the world or anything, but he does understand Kurt’s concern, and he’d rather not make things completely awkward when the day has been going so well. In fact, he’d still be floating on cloud nine if it wasn’t for Kurt’s earlier admittance.  
  
In bed that night, Blaine is spooning Kurt from behind, sensing some undercurrent of vulnerability that makes him want to be the one doing the holding.  
  
“You said, earlier,” Blaine starts to whisper, like he can’t raise his voice any higher in the still dark.  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt says, just as quiet. He doesn’t continue right away, and Blaine waits.  
  
“I guess it’s more the idea of intimacy than anything else. Growing up confused, and feeling like—god, if I even touched a guy it was— I had to be careful. It didn’t feel okay, because then they’d  _know_ , and if they knew they’d be disgusted. Other than the two times I’d gone to that club, the time you picked me up and once before I met you, I’d been drinking and it was just.” There’s a small pause. “Kissing and dancing, you know? I was so drunk I couldn’t even remember what it felt like the next day. I knew I’d done it, just not what it was  _like_ , except that I felt so stupid after.”  
  
Blaine kisses Kurt's shoulder and doesn’t say anything at first. He can't imagine what it would be like, growing up and feeling the need to have to hide something so huge about yourself. Or worse, to think of yourself disgusting, that other people would be disgusted by you. Kurt must have been so  _lonely_. Blaine's presses into the back of Kurt's neck. He can't get close enough.  
  
“I didn’t cross any lines, did I?” he asks, says it in a rush because that’s what’s had him uneasy all night. The idea that he may have done something Kurt hadn’t wanted.  
  
“No, no,” Kurt says firmly. “I would have stopped you. When it comes to you, it’s like. All these ideas I had? The things that scared me? Go away when you touch me.” Kurt’s hand finds Blaine’s and winds around it. “Like they never existed at all.”  
  
“I’d never hurt you,” Blaine whispers.  
  
“I know. Blaine, you’re more than I could ever ask for.”  
  
Blaine doesn’t know how to respond to that, just tightens his arms around Kurt and holds on.  
  
\----  
  
Kurt calls on Sunday night as promised.  
  
“Well, I told my dad,” is how Kurt starts the conversation, and then just  _stops_  like that’s all Blaine wants to know.  
  
“ _And_?” Blaine prompts.  
  
“He’s happy—”  
  
It’s all Kurt needs to say to send the anxiety that had been coiling up in Blaine’s stomach away. He isn’t sure he could take Burt not accepting their relationship. Aside from the fact that Burt means a lot to him, he  _knows_ telling his own parents is a terrible idea, and he's sure Kurt doesn’t want anyone at school to know.  
  
“—And he said he could tell I liked you right away, which was embarrassing.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Blaine says, but he’s grinning, can’t  _stop_  grinning. “I guess I was the only one who didn’t realize.”  
  
Kurt sighs. “Oblivious boyfriend is oblivious.”  
  
Blaine’s chest tightens, he goes warm all over. “Yeah, well, all that matters is that we’re together now, right?” he says, lying back on his bed, staring up at his ceiling with a big smile on his face.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s really amazing, actually,” Kurt says over the line, and Blaine can hear the sincerity in his voice.  
  
“It is,” Blaine says softly, and turns his body so he can hug a pillow. If that makes him a dork, at least there’s no one here to see it. “So, is your dad going to give us a talk?”  
  
Kurt snickers. “I don’t know. I  _hope_  not. Just keep up that innocent schoolboy thing and maybe he’ll leave us alone.”  
  
“ _Innocent schoolboy thing_?”  
  
“You are unusually well-mannered, charming, and sweet for a seventeen year old boy. You are every parent’s dream, you know. Did you meet Rachel’s parents before homecoming? I bet they nearly crapped themselves in happiness that it was you taking their daughter out and not some hooligan.”  
  
“Oh my god, Kurt,” Blaine says, openly laughing. “Did you just say  _hooligan_ —look, it’s not a thing, I just…”  
  
“You want people to like you, I know.”  
  
Blaine blushes from embarrassment, glad Kurt can’t see it, and looks down at his bedspread.  
  
“I get it, Blaine, it’s not a bad thing,” Kurt continues. “I was just teasing you. I'm sorry.”  
  
His voice comes out quiet. “You don’t have to apologize.”  
  
There’s a long moment where neither of them say anything. “I pissed you off, I’m sorry—”  
  
“I’m not,” Blaine starts to say, but Kurt cuts him off again.  
  
“—It’s just, your parents—”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about them,” Blaine says, cutting Kurt off this time.  
  
“Okay. Okay, sorry.”  
  
“Stop…stop saying you’re  _sorry_.” Blaine sighs and presses his forehead into his pillow. “I just. I don’t want you to think I’m not genuine.”  
  
“I  _don’t_ , Blaine. I don’t think there’s anything you do that doesn’t come straight from your heart,” Kurt says.  
  
There’s another stretch of silence, and Blaine finally says, “Got you to like me, anyway.”  
  
Kurt laughs, sort of a soft, breathy sound. “You’re pretty irresistible.”  
  
They talk for over an hour and then spend another thirty minutes trying to hang up, and Blaine goes to bed smiling. He is someone's  _boyfriend_ , and even has parental approval. Can it even get any better than this?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence in this chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my fic! I hope you've enjoyed it, and I hope you like the ending. :)

Blaine walks into school feeling lighter than he has since his transfer. Suddenly the giant Dalton-shaped hole in his heart is just that much smaller. He knows if his mom told him tomorrow he could transfer back and board at his old school, he would say no. No matter how hard it is at McKinley, no matter how many shoves or slushies, he has Kurt, and that will get him through it.  
  
His smile disappears when he turns the corner and sees a familiar, hulking form down the hallway. With everything that had happened he’d forgotten about Karofsky coming back. He hadn’t been thinking about it at all, and seeing him here all of a sudden startles Blaine enough that he almost drops his books.  
  
He doesn’t even think, just turns around and walks until he reaches the boys restroom. He locks himself in the handicapped stall and looks down, realizing his hands are shaking. He pulls out his cell phone and texts Kurt,  _cut homerm. meet me in the boys bathrm by rm 20_ , and waits, trying to calm down.  
  
Several minutes pass before Blaine hears the door open. Blaine looks under the stall door gap, recognizes Kurt’s boots, and pushes open the door. “Kurt…”  
  
Kurt looks at him in concern and Blaine takes his sleeve, pulling him into the stall and locking the door behind them. “Blaine?” Kurt asks, and Blaine cuts him off with a kiss. Kurt doesn’t even hesitate to kiss back, and Blaine loves him for it, kisses him until his lips feel numb and his hands stop trembling.  
  
“Oh my,” Kurt says with a surprised, flirty smile when Blaine pulls back, “what was that for?”

Blaine smiles bashfully and looks down. “Because I can?”  
  
The restroom door opens once more and they fall quiet, Kurt’s eyes going wide. Blaine just drags him close, whispers against his ear. “No one’s gonna see us.”  
  
Kurt whispers back. “Kind of suspicious, two pairs of feet and all.”  
  
“No one will look,” Blaine says, and kisses Kurt’s earlobe, nibbles and licks until he has Kurt squirming. He’s just about to casually slide his hands down to Kurt’s ass, when there is the clear sound of someone peeing in a nearby stall. He shares a look of alarm with Kurt before hiding his face in the side of Kurt’s neck to keep from laughing too loudly.  
  
“What a mood killer,” Kurt whispers, still giggling.  
  
“What, the restroom doesn’t have enough romantic ambiance for you? God, you’re so high maintenance.”  
  
Whoever it is leaves, and they break apart, grinning. Blaine’s smile dims, though, when Kurt starts to lean back in. “Um, there was actually another reason I asked you to come.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Blaine lets out a breath. “I saw Karofsky.”  
  
Kurt doesn’t look surprised, but Blaine can tell by the way his mouth tightens in a frown that Karofsky hadn’t been on his mind, either. “If he touches you, text me.”  
  
“Kurt, you can’t—”  
  
“I just want you to tell me, okay?”  
  
Blaine is reluctant to agree, not wanting Kurt to get in the middle of it.  
  
“ _Blaine_.”  
  
“ _Okay_ , I’ll text you,” Blaine says.  
  
“Promise?”  
  
“Pinky promise.”  
  
Kurt smiles a little, taking Blaine up on his offer and locking pinkies. “It’ll be okay, Blaine. He’s already on thin ice, if he tries anything I’ll go to the school board myself.”  
  
“Oh god, I actually think you would,” Blaine says.  
  
“I only speak the truth,” Kurt says, and Blaine rolls his eyes, thinking back to their movie marathon yesterday afternoon. Moulin Rouge had been Kurt’s choice, but it was Blaine who’d cried like a baby at the end.  
  
“You know,” Blaine says, “there’s still five minutes ‘til first period.”  
  
Kurt grins wickedly, and Blaine wipes it right off his face with a kiss.  
  
\----  
  
Blaine sees Karofsky a few times throughout the week, but Karofsky never comes near him. Karofsky _looks_ , and that’s unnerving enough because Blaine can see the threat in his eyes, a dark promise for more, but he doesn’t try anything. Yet.  
  
And then there’s Kurt. Kurt sitting near him in class and texting him and always, always at the forefront of Blaine’s mind. They sneak out at lunch, go to Blaine’s car, parked as far back in the lot as possible. It’s December and cold out, unwelcomingly frigid just as soon as you step out the door, but they have each other. They don’t need to turn on the car and run the heater when they spread out along the backseat, warming each other with kisses and hands stuffed under each other’s coats and shirts.  
  
Blaine’s friends start to ask where he is all the time, what’s got him so happy when he stares off at nothing, smiling. He says he has a project in French he’s working on, knowing none of them can question the validity of his lie because none of them take French. As for the second part, he evades, says it's nothing, they're crazy. He's the same as ever.  
  
But Blaine feels like he’s on pins and needles, his emotions swinging all over the place between Karofsky and Kurt and the upcoming Sectionals competition. By the end of the week he’s so anxious about Sectionals that it’s almost a blessing to have Kurt to focus on.  
  
“You’ll be there, right?” Blaine asks Kurt Friday night.  
  
Kurt stares at him. “Blaine, you seriously need to ask?”  
  
“I don’t know, I kind of feel like I’m going out of my mind. What if I forget the lyrics? What if I bump into someone while I’m dancing? What if we lose?” Blaine throws his hands up. “What if the  _Warblers_  lose? I don’t know which would make me feel worse—”  
  
“Blaine, relax,” Kurt says, taking his hands to still them. “Who used to lead the Warblers, hm?”  
  
“I didn’t exactly _lead_ , there was a council—”  
  
“You were their main soloist, correct?”  
  
“I was their main soloist, yes.”  
  
Kurt’s hands cup his face, looks him right in the eyes. “See? You know what you’re doing. You’ve done this before. I’ll be there, front row, and I know you’ll be amazing.”  
  
Blaine smiles, finally, feeling as reassured as possible. He leans in to kiss Kurt on the cheek and stays there. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  
  
“Masturbate a lot more, probably,” Kurt teases.  
  
Blaine bursts out laughing. “You’re evil.”  
  
Kurt just hums quietly in response and kisses him good night. Kurt’s lips are deliciously soft and Blaine lingers, he _really_  doesn’t want to leave. It’s Kurt who has to usher him out, promising, “Tomorrow, tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you.”  
  
\----  
  
Blaine is waiting for his toast when his father walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing a suit and tie, impeccably dressed and groomed.  
  
“It’s just Sectionals, Dad, you didn’t have to get that dressed up,” Blaine says with a tiny smile, secretly pleased that his father would go to such effort.  
  
His father's expression is one of obvious confusion, before it smooths out into something more dismissive. “Oh. I’m afraid I have to meet with a client today, I won’t be able to come to your singing show.”  
  
His mother, it turns out, has a migraine and can’t come either.  
  
Blaine would like to be able to say he’s surprised, but the truth is, his parents have missed more competitions and performances than they’ve ever attended, and things around the house have been so tense and uneasy since he came out that he should have expected it. Still, there was a part of him, some stupid, foolish part, that had  _hoped_. It’s his first competition with New Directions and he really thought this time would be different. He _wanted_  it to be different, and tries not to feel the crush of disappointment that it isn't.  
  
If there’s ever a moment he feels like he shines, it’s when he’s on stage. If his parents could just see that, if they could just  _understand_ , maybe they would realize he is not a disappointment. Maybe they would see that he’s going to be something great, someday. At least, he hopes so.  
  
\----  
  
  
They get to the auditorium where Sectionals are being held a little late, so when they do arrive, they’re sent straight off to their school's waiting room, which means no checking the crowd for Kurt and no meet-up with the Warblers. They get ready and practice, and finally they get the news that they’ll be going last.  
  
They’re sent out into the auditorium to a block of designated seats to watch the other teams perform, and Blaine nearly trips over Rachel, because instead of watching where he’s walking he’s looking for Kurt in the crowd. He finds Kurt, not first row, but third row center, sitting next to Burt, and Blaine’s whole face lights up. He waves, not caring who sees. He  _came_ , and he brought his dad. Burt actually wanted to come to something that his own kid wasn’t even a part of. There is a mix of love and bitterness, but whatever he’s feeling because of his parents disappears the moment the lights go dark. The Warblers are set to go on first, and Blaine sits up in his seat, staring eagerly at the stage.  
  
None of his friends at Dalton would tell him what songs they were doing, or even who was singing lead. They teased him about being a spy and made up ridiculous answers, like, Jeff is singing Closer by Nine Inch Nails, which immediately made Jeff blush five different shades of red. Or, they’re doing He Had It Coming from Chicago, or Lady Marmalade from Moulin Rouge. But it’s Nick who steps out of formation, singing lead on a beautifully arranged acapella rendition of Uptown Girl, and Blaine’s heart swells with pride for his friend. They follow with two more Billy Joel songs; Only The Good Die Young, and The River Of Dreams. When they finish, Blaine is the first one out of his seat, cheering. He jumps up and down, waving, trying to get their attention. Trent sees him first and tries to get some of the others to look over, and they’re laughing and wave to him on their way off the stage. Wes would have killed them for acting so unprofessional, and the thought just makes Blaine smile all the wider.  
  
The second group barely registers through the swirl of nostalgia and the sharp contrast of anxiety. Before he knows it, it’s their turn. He and Rachel are singing a duet of Coldplay’s Paradise, and she has the first stanza. Her voice rings out clear and true, and Blaine watches as she comes alive in a way he’s never seen before, not even in glee club. She’s amazing, and he can’t imagine the crowd being anything less than captivated.  
  
He joins her during  _para-para-paradise_ , and then it’s him alone.  
  
“ _When_   _she was just a girl, she expected the world_ ,” he sings, looking out into the audience, finding a familiar face among the rest. “ _But it flew away from her reach_.” He extends a hand. “ _And the bullets catch in her teeth_.”  
  
Kurt is  _smiling_  at him.  
  
Rachel joins him, “ _Life_   _goes on, it gets so heavy, the wheel breaks the butterfly_.” He looks to her, their voices harmonizing, filling the room. “ _Every tear, a waterfall. In the night, the stormy night, she closes her eyes. In the night, the stormy night, away she flied…_ ”  
  
Blaine finds Kurt again, and the voices of New Directions jump in. When the song ends, it leads into Yellow. There isn’t much dancing involved, so Blaine has the opportunity to watch Kurt, singing to him, letting him know with his eyes and his voice,  _this is for you. This is how I feel when I’m with you_.  
  
They finish with Viva La Vida and inspire a standing ovation. It went perfectly.  _Perfectly_. As they file back into their waiting room Blaine is still breathing hard, sweating lightly, so pumped with adrenaline and feeling like he could do anything. The members of New Directions are talking excitedly, all of them feeling like they have a good chance of winning. Blaine’s pocket vibrates with a text from Kurt.  
  
 **K:**  You were amazing. Can I come see you?  
  
Blaine grins widely as he texts back, ‘ _meet me back here after judging, i want you to meet the warblers. that ok?_ ’  
 **  
K:**  See you then!  
  
They wait for what seems like an eternity before they’re called back on stage. The judge talks briefly about the sanctity of music or  _something_ , before announcing the third place winner. It isn’t New Directions or the Warblers, and Blaine can’t help but look over to his old group.  
  
When they announce the winner it’s  _New Directions_  and Blaine is swept up into the moment, his teammates crashing into each other with squeals and hugs and cheering. Blaine’s heart soars. There isn’t room for anything but joy in that moment, and Blaine soaks it up, swears to remember it forever.  
  
Blaine spots Kurt waiting for him near an exit door as New Directions file off stage. He hurries over and wraps Kurt into a tight hug.  
  
“You  _came_ ,” he says against Kurt’s temple.  
  
“You keep acting surprised. Am I really such a bad boyfriend?” Kurt asks, pulling back with a wide smile.  
  
Blaine feels inexplicably choked up. “No. No, never.”  
  
“You really shined out there, Blaine.” Kurt moves his hands from behind his back, producing a small bouquet of red roses. “These are for you.”  
  
“Kurt…” Blaine looks at Kurt and the bouquet in awe. He’s never gotten flowers before, would never have even thought he’d want them, but his chest  _aches_  with emotion and he takes them so carefully, like anything but a delicate touch and they’ll cease to be real. “Thank you.”  
  
Kurt cups a hand behind Blaine’s neck and brings him closer, kissing him softly and lovingly, and every worry and bit of heartache that had been lingering melts away. Blaine pulls back only when it becomes a little too good, and smiles breathlessly up at Kurt. “Come on, I want you to meet my friends before they leave.”  
  
He takes Kurt’s hand, the bouquet tight in the other, and leads him toward the Warblers' waiting room.  
  
It was not so very long ago that Blaine had worried about how to come out to his friends at Dalton. In the end he’d chosen the lamest - albeit easiest - route, and changed his status on facebook from  _interested in women_  to  _interested in men_. This was met with an outpouring of supportive and gently teasing comments, and a Skype call from a few of them to call him out on not telling them personally.  
  
Blaine doesn’t know what to expect when he introduces them to his  _boyfriend_ , but he doesn’t have a lot of time to be nervous. As soon as he steps into the doorway, every head turns toward him, and then it’s just madness as he’s enveloped in a giant, raucous group hug. He loses Kurt’s hand, and thank god Kurt had the presence of mind to take the bouquet from him, because he’s being crushed.  
  
“Oh my god, oh my god, stop, I can’t breathe,” he’s saying, laughing and trying to hug everyone. Eventually the crowd of boys back off, laughing and talking and welcoming him “back.”  
  
Nick has an arm around his shoulders. “They stole our star from us, no wonder we lost!”  
  
Blaine’s face is ablaze and he shakes his head, face tipped down. “You were awesome, Nick. You guys blew me away.”  
  
There’s a lot of excited chatter directed at him, but Blaine takes a step back and looks for Kurt, still standing there silently in the doorway. “Hey guys, I wanted to, uh, introduce you.” He takes Kurt’s hand and tugs him forward to stand by his side, smiling proudly. Kurt looks slightly terrified, but Blaine  _knows_  his friends and his heart swells up to be able to share this with them. “This is my boyfriend, Kurt.”  
  
Kurt’s shy little  _hi_  is lost in an eruption of  _ohhhh!_ ’s and catcalls and teasing and lewd and congratulatory comments. Warblers are patting him on the back and shoving at each other to shake Kurt’s hand, and both he and Kurt are blushing, but it’s a positive reaction and Blaine knows Kurt needs this. Kurt needs to see that not everything is going to be homophobia and hate. And maybe he needs it, too.  
  
They talk to the Warblers for just a little while longer before Blaine gets a text from Rachel asking where he is. He bids a sad farewell, and there’s more hugging and  _congratulations on being the cutest couple ever_  and  _congratulations on getting some_  and _congratulations on winning_. The Warblers sing them out  _oh goodbye, my love, I’m gonna cry, my love_  and Blaine and Kurt are both laughing when they leave the room.  
  
“I can’t believe it. An entire room of boys and no one so much as gave us a dirty look,” Kurt says.  
  
“They’re awesome. Some people are just awesome,” Blaine says, and takes the bouquet back from Kurt before he leaves. “Call me later?”  
  
“ _Come over_  later,” Kurt says with a wink, and gives him a quick kiss before sending him on his way.  
  
When he rejoins New Directions he totally gets the side-eye about his flowers.  
  
“They’re from the Warblers,” Blaine says, giving the first excuse that comes to mind.  
  
Santana snatches a small card from the bouquet that Blaine hadn’t even noticed was there. “ _To the brightest star in my sky_ ,” she reads. There’s a moment of silence and Blaine is mortified, but then she cackles, “Gay!” and Rachel is yelling at her and someone makes a Gargler joke and Blaine grabs the card back from her, cheeks hot.  
  
“It probably just came with the bouquet,” he says, but no one’s really listening anymore anyway.  
  
The bus ride back to Lima is much more exciting than the trip to Sectionals had been, and Blaine gets caught up in it.  
  
Moving from Westerville and leaving Dalton had been heartbreaking for him. He’d been miserable for the weeks leading up to their move, and even more so when they’d actually gotten to Lima. It took him a long time to feel like he really fit in, like he had a place here and he belonged. But looking around this bus, hearing the teasing and the in-jokes and the impromptu singing. The card and the flowers. He has never felt so much at home.  
  
\----  
  
Kurt is sitting on the floor with his back against the edge of the bed, math book open and pencil poised. He’s been working on equations for the last twenty minutes, and before that, science vocab. Blaine is done with his homework and slowly spinning circles in Kurt’s computer chair.  
  
“So,” Blaine says.  
  
“So,” Kurt echoes, eyes on his paper.  
  
“You know, the winter dance is coming up,” Blaine starts to say. Kurt looks up, blue eyes wide. “Rachel asked me to go with her . As friends, of course. I said I didn’t know. I wanted to ask you first.”  
  
“Oh.” Kurt glances down a moment before looking back to him. “Of course. I mean, whatever. If you want to go.” He shrugs.  
  
“I guess. I just felt bad, she really wants to go and doesn’t have a date. And it’s not like  _we_  can go together.”  
  
“No, of course not,” Kurt says, his words clipped and attention back on his assignment.  
  
Blaine stares down at Kurt, trying to figure out his reaction. “You’re mad,” he finally says, a statement more than a question.  
  
Kurt just snorts.  
  
“Kurt, I can  _tell_  when—”  
  
“I’m not mad, Blaine, I swear,” Kurt says, looking up, irritation plain on his face.  
  
“Look, it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with Rachel Berry because I go to a dance with her.”  
  
Kurt snorts out a short laugh. “Did I say I thought that would happen?” he asks, and there’s something in the way he says it that Blaine doesn’t like.  
  
“Then  _enlighten me_ , what’s wrong?”  
  
“What’s  _wrong_  is that I’m trying to finish my  _homework_  and you keep twirling around in that chair and going on about this dance like I  _care_  and it’s really getting on my last nerve,” Kurt snaps.  
  
Blaine goes cold all over and stands up. “ _Fine_. Excuse me for thinking you’d care about something involving me.”  
  
He walks out. He doesn’t even give Kurt a chance to say anything, he doesn’t look back, he just leaves. He’s just so  _angry._ He didn’t do anything wrong, he’d only been trying to talk to Kurt,  _god forbid_. Only when Blaine gets to his car does he realize he overreacted. He also forgot his homework on Kurt’s bedroom floor. He’s too embarrassed to go back, and maybe Kurt needs time to cool down from whatever mood he was in, too. With a quick look at Kurt’s bedroom window, Blaine backs out of the driveway and heads home, the radio off and car silent.  
  
\----  
  
Kurt finds Blaine at his locker the next morning. When Blaine sees the way his eyebrows are drawn up in worry, the little downturned frown, he’s honestly relieved. If Kurt isn’t still mad at him then he won’t have to prostrate himself across the hallway floor and beg forgiveness. He apologizes anyway, they both do, and the anxiety that has been building since last night seeps away. He wishes he could kiss Kurt right then and there because words are not enough, sometimes.  
  
Blaine glances around, looking in resentment at each and every person preventing him from doing such a small, simple thing. He wonders if he and Kurt will ever be able to. If in college Kurt will be comfortable being out. Blaine has the sudden urge to cut classes for the day and go finish all his college applications, he will apply to every school in New York until one accepts him. But they haven’t talked about their future much, not in a  _together_ sense. Blaine has been assuming the end of high school wouldn’t mean the end of them.  
  
But what if it does?  
  
\----  
  
The week passes uneventfully. Nothing  _happens_ , but things are off in a way Blaine can’t seem to pinpoint.  
  
Blaine finds himself watching Kurt, wanting to ask what his plans are after graduation and if they include Blaine. Kurt would tell him if they did, wouldn’t he? Maybe Blaine is moving too fast. They  _have_  only known each other for about three months, have been friends for even less, a couple not even half that, which seems  _crazy_  because it feels longer.  
  
Kurt seems distant, more snappish than usual. When Blaine tells Kurt his parents are on a trip over the weekend and does he want to come over? Kurt simply agrees like Blaine has just invited him to the  _grocery store_. Blaine would worry Kurt isn’t interested in him like _that_  anymore, but that is the one thing that hasn’t changed, at least, every make out session is hotter and more frenzied than the last. Kurt seems almost desperate for it in a way Blaine doesn’t think can be faked, but his hot and cold mood changes are confusing more than Blaine’s libido. He tries to think of a way to ask about it, but nothing comes.  
  
\----  
  
The Winter Formal, though the word  _formal_  is in the title, is much less of an event than Homecoming was. No one is as decked out, and Rachel is much more calm about the whole affair.  
  
New Directions form their own circle on the dance floor. It’s fun and all, but then The Way You Look Tonight starts playing and everyone pairs off to slow dance. Rachel loops her arms around his shoulders, but all Blaine can think is that she isn’t who he really wants in his arms. He has his cheek resting against her hair, watching the room as they slowly circle, when he sees Kurt walk through the door.  
  
He does a double take and nearly steps on Rachel’s feet, because that is definitely  _Kurt_  in a  _suit_ , and  _wow_ , he looks  _amazing_. Before Blaine has a chance to even head Kurt's way, Santana joins Kurt, taking his arm.  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
Blaine doesn’t even realize he just said that out loud until Rachel stops dancing to look up at him. “What?”  
  
“Uh—nothing…”  
  
He continues dancing and watches as Santana drags Kurt over to the food table. When the song ends, Blaine politely excuses himself and makes his way over, mentally cursing the dense clusters of obnoxious classmates in his way. Kurt is gone when he gets there, leaving Blaine looking stupidly at Santana.  
  
Blaine isn’t as intimidated to approach her as he would have been when he first joined glee club. Ever since the shopping trip, especially, he and Santana have formed a bizarre, twisted sort of friendship. Or at least mutual tolerance, which, considering Santana's general attitude, is something to be admired.  
  
He sidles up in the guise of getting punch. “Hi, Santana. You look beautiful.” And she does, her hair piled high, wearing a long, black silk dress.  
  
Santana spares him a sly smile. “Not too shabby yourself, Gaybler.”  
  
“Uh—”  
  
“You know, if Rachel’s going to be your beard, you could at least help dress her.” Santana shoots a look off in Rachel’s direction, making a face at the light blue and pink frosted dress.  
  
“She’s not my beard—and just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I know anything about women’s clothes.”  
  
“I never said you did, but you do have  _eyes._ She’s a little too old to shop at Kids R Us,” Santana says.  
  
“Well, look who  _you_  asked.” Blaine’s statement hangs in the air between them. He can’t find an insult to even pretend to apply to Kurt.  
  
“What? Are you kidding? Chipette over there practically  _begged_  me to go with him,” she snorts, inspecting her cup of punch with a disgusted frown.  
  
Blaine looks up, tries to hide his shock.  
  
“It’s cool,” Santana continues. “I needed an excuse, anyway.” She’s looking off to some corner of the room. Blaine follows her gaze, but hasn’t a clue what, or who, she’s looking at. He sees his group of friends and returns the wave Mercedes’ is sending him.  
  
“Oh. Where’d— um, where’d he go?” Blaine asks, trying to feign nonchalance and failing pretty spectacularly.  
  
Santana raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Said he had to find someone.”  
  
“Oh…” Blaine looks around, wondering if Kurt meant him. Has Kurt come to see him? It seems so unlikely, but then why else? “Well. I gotta go, Santana. See you.”  
  
He slips away before she can say a word, and starts wandering the crowd, looking for Kurt. He’s stopped by Rachel before he can get very far.  
  
“Oh,” she says, smiling, “for me?”  
  
Blaine looks down at the cup of punch he’s holding in confusion. He had completely forgotten he’d even grabbed it. “Oh, yeah. Here.” He hands it to her with a smile. “Well—”  
  
“Did you see the fight?” Rachel asks, an excited gleam in her eye.  
  
“ _What?_ ”  Blaine squeaks, his mind flying to Kurt who is still nowhere to be seen—  
  
Rachel cuts off his train of thought. “Finn and Quinn just got into a  _huge_  argument. I couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but it sounded serious and he  _left_  and I don’t know if he’s coming back, but—”  
  
Rachel continues on for several minutes, debating what the argument was about, what it could mean, should she go find Finn so he will turn to her in his time of need? Another slow song starts up and she takes his hands, dancing and occasionally asking what she should do. After Blaine tells her five different times to go find Finn, she finally does, heading out of the gymnasium.

Blaine continues his search for Kurt, and eventually concludes that there's no way Kurt can still be in the gymnasium. He feels like he's walked the perimeter at least twice. Eventually, he heads out, the music growing muted. There are a few small groups of scattered students milling around in the lobby. The hallways beyond are mostly dark, the lights turned off to indicate those areas are off limits. He jogs down one, nothing, heads back and tries the next. It’s the choir room hallway along the side of the gymnasium, ending in doors that lead out to the parking lot, where he finds Kurt, standing near the doors, looking down at his phone.  
  
“Hey,” Blaine says, slows his steps and walks toward Kurt. Kurt looks up and Blaine can’t read his expression, but doesn’t think it’s anything good. “I can’t believe you’re here.”  
  
“It was a mistake,” Kurt says, tapping something into his phone.  
  
“What do you mean?” Blaine asks with a frown, stopping a few feet away. He watches Kurt’s profile for a long moment. "...Kurt?"  
  
"You want to be out. You want to be open. I  _understand_ , Blaine. It's something I can't give you, so—"  
  
"I didn't ask you to, Kurt. It's okay that you didn't come, I swear," Blaine says with a small shrug of his shoulders, arms loose at his sides, hands wanting to touch Kurt.  
  
Kurt doesn't look up, and Blaine kind of wants to break his phone.  
  
“Why did you come, Kurt?”  
  
Kurt's jaw clenches. “I don’t know.”  
  
“God, Kurt, could you put your phone away?”  
  
He gets a sharp look for that. “I have to let Santana know I’m not staying.”  
  
“What? Don’t leave yet,” Blaine says, and takes a step forward. He just wants to know why, and he wants things to go back to normal between them. “You actually came here, didn't even come say hi to me, and now you're leaving already?"  
  
But Kurt isn’t talking.  
  
" _Kurt_."  
  
“I wanted you to ask me,” Kurt says, eyes on his phone.  
  
Blaine frowns, shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “You wouldn’t have gone with me…”  
  
Kurt drags his tongue along his lower lip and glances over.  
  
“Right? Because I was under the impression that this was a secret,” Blaine says when Kurt doesn’t reply.  
  
Kurt shrugs a shoulder, a helpless sort of look on his face. "I know." The vulnerability in his voice breaks Blaine's heart.  
  
The music from the gym filtering into the hallway catches Blaine’s attention. He takes a deep breath. “Dance with me.”  
  
Kurt’s eyebrows go up, and he’s looking at Blaine now,  _really_  looking. “What?”  
  
“Dance with me,” Blaine says, holding out a hand.  
  
Kurt’s mouth curls up in uncertainty and he places his hand in Blaine’s. “Okay…”  
  
Blaine pulls Kurt toward him, encircling Kurt’s waist with his arms. They’re close, and Kurt is warm and perfect. “I would have asked you if I thought there was a chance in hell you’d have accepted.”  
  
“I don’t even know if I would have,” Kurt says, tilting his head to rest against Blaine’s. “I probably wouldn’t have. I guess I just. Wanted.”  
  
“We should be able to, Kurt,” Blaine says. “We're no different from anyone else.”  
  
Kurt doesn’t answer. They turn, swaying to the music, and it’s just like Blaine always imagined it should be. The thrill of Kurt’s touch as the music swirls around him, heart racing. Kurt starts to sing along softly against his ear. “ _Maybe I didn’t hold_   _you all those lonely, lonely times, and_   _I guess I never told you, I’m so happy that you’re mine…_ ”  
  
Blaine smiles, closes his eyes against a small shiver, and joins in.  
  
“ _If I ever made you feel second best, I’m so sorry, I was blind_.  _You were always on my mind, you were always on my mind…_ ”  
  
Anyone could walk down this hallway. Anyone. But here Kurt holds him, dances with him. They turn a circle in the middle of the hallway, the two of them, the moon through the door’s window their main source of light. They dance to the slow songs, to the fast songs. They take turns singing – both alone and together – never too loudly, doing their best to keep their laughter down so they don’t draw any unwanted attention. Blaine isn’t sure if it’s because Kurt doesn’t want anyone to find out, or simply because they have turned this into their own private party and don’t want to share the feeling.  
  
Blaine twirls Kurt and Kurt dips Blaine and they laugh and dance. When one of the songs ends, Blaine presses Kurt to the wall and kisses him, so delighted he can’t keep it to himself any longer. Kurt tugs at Blaine’s bowtie and kisses back.  _He_   _kisses back_.  
  
Elated, Blaine pulls away with a widening grin. “I love you.”  
  
Kurt looks as stunned as Blaine feels, because he did not mean to say that. Blaine’s fingers come up to cover his mouth as though he can retroactively keep the words inside.  
  
“You do?”  
  
As scared as Blaine is to openly admit it to Kurt, it’s only from fear of rejection, or that it’s too soon. But he won’t take it back. What a thing to take back. Maybe it’s too much, but he could never tell Kurt he doesn’t love him.  
  
So he nods, his hand slowly lowering. “You don’t have to—”  
  
“I love you, too,” Kurt says in a rush, cutting Blaine off. He says the words like he’s pushing them past his lips, and then he’s close, hiding his face against Blaine’s, cheek to cheek. “I love you.”  
  
Kurt is holding him loosely at the waist, and Blaine grips the sleeves at Kurt’s elbows, holding on. “Kurt…”  
  
“I hated seeing you with Rachel Berry, and I hated not being the one there with you. It's stupid, because I know it didn't mean anything to you, but I don’t want you to be anyone else's but mine.”  
  
“God, no,” Blaine says, turning his face toward Kurt’s, nose to cheek.  
  
Kurt shifts, skin against skin, until his mouth finds Blaine’s. Blaine doesn’t hesitate to kiss him. Their lips part in tandem, Kurt’s tongue is warm and insistent, the press of their mouths possessive. There’s something like a growl and Blaine realizes he doesn’t know who it came from, realizes they can’t do this here.  
  
Blaine’s voice, when it comes, is breathy and rough. “Let’s go.”  
  
Kurt is still pressing kisses to Blaine’s mouth. “Where?”  
  
“I don’t know. Somewhere we can be alone. My house?”  
  
“Oh. Okay,” Kurt says, somewhere from the vicinity of Blaine’s neck.  
  
Blaine pulls away with a laugh and Kurt just smiles.  
  
They try the door at the end of the hallway, but it’s locked, which means their only way out is through the front doors. They get a few curious looks as they walk through the lobby, but no one says a thing. Once they’re outside in the open air they take off, running like they’re bound for flight, hands linked and hearts soaring.

\----

“When the world is puddle-wonderful,” Blaine whispers as Kurt mouths at his neck, works at unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Mm?”

“Huh?”

Kurt stops and gives Blaine a curious look. “Did you just say something about  _puddles_?”

Blaine blinks. “I…did not realize I said that out loud.”

“Someone spiked the punch, that’s what all this has been about, hasn’t it?”

“No!” Blaine smiles in embarrassment. “It’s from this ee cummings poem.”

“Cummings, hm?” Kurt’s fingers continue on their mission to open Blaine’s shirt. “Trying to tell me something?” Kurt smirks, stepping in closer. “You’re so dirty, Blaine.”

“Shut up,” Blaine laughs.

“You’re the one talking about coming,” Kurt says in a sing-song voice.

Blaine is half-naked now and thinking about coming and so he can’t be blamed for pressing forward and kissing any further words from Kurt’s mouth. Kurt kisses back without hesitation and it’s messy at first and just a little awkward because they are both so eager. Kurt’s hands frame Blaine’s face and hold him there, keep him still. Kurt presses him hard against the door and kisses him like he’s starving for it.

Blaine understands, he understands completely, because he needs this, too.

He never imagined being with someone could feel this way, that passion like this was real. He had  _hoped,_  but after so many failed dates and his inability to want anyone beyond something platonic, he had wondered if there was something wrong with him, that maybe love of this kind was just an exaggeration. He feels it now like a physical ache, this need for Kurt, and it’s scary and amazing, and to think Kurt feels even just a little of this for him? Blaine’s heart is almost fit to burst.

Kurt is breathless and flushed when he pulls away. “I want to do everything with you,” he says, kissing Blaine’s face, lips moving down to his neck, kissing everywhere.

“I want you to,” Blaine says, tilting his head back, baring throat and chest to Kurt’s mouth. Oh, Kurt’s _tongue_ , little wet touches along his jaw, under his ear, over his Adam’s apple. Blaine groans so Kurt’s mouth will feel the vibration and Kurt moans softly in response, sucks fleetingly along his neck.

“We should—” Blaine gasps as Kurt’s teeth worry along the side of his neck. “—Bed, Kurt.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kurt says, moves away only enough to lead them both over. Kurt sits on the edge of the mattress and stops Blaine from following, holding him by the hips, eyes on his. “What did you bring me here for, exactly?”

Blaine blushes and stutters, glances away. “To be with you.”

“But,” Kurt breathes, fingers giving the waistband of Blaine’s slacks a light tug, “in what capacity?”

Blaine pushes through sudden nervousness and makes a face, something like a smile, he hopes. “Whatever capacity you want.”

Kurt slides the button free with his thumb. “When I said everything, I meant it. I meant now.”

Blaine’s throat constricts, so he nods, words failing to express how much he wants this, too. With Kurt.

Kurt pulls Blaine’s pants down, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He reaches forward, gently touches Blaine, eliciting a soft, pleading sound. Kurt’s eyes flicker upward. “You’re already so hard for me.”

“ _Kurt_ —”

Kurt is palming him, almost kneading. Blaine leans into it with a groan, hands falling to Kurt’s shoulders. At his touch, Kurt pulls his briefs down, leaving Blaine naked. Kurt doesn’t stroke or jerk him, more like maps him out, palm and fingers skating along his skin, just  _feeling_. Kurt’s other hand reaches below, behind, along his thighs, everywhere. Kurt’s hands are all over and it’s all Blaine can do to keep from slumping into his lap, begging for more.

“I love this about you,” Kurt says.

“W-What?” Blaine asks, fingers tight around Kurt’s shoulders, head bowed.

Kurt gently squeezes his cock. “ _This_. Knowing I did this to you, that this is because of me.” Kurt strokes just once.

Kurt pulls him closer and slides to the floor. Blaine’s hands trace up Kurt’s neck to the back of his head, fingers disappearing in his hair. He can’t think with the way Kurt’s touching him and the things Kurt is saying. He can’t think of one thing to reply with that isn’t a moan or a plea for something more.

Kurt briefly nuzzles his nose and cheek to Blaine’s stomach, kissing his way down along the sparse trail of hair until Blaine can feel his breath where he aches most.

“Drives me crazy,” Kurt whispers, and presses his lips right to the underside of Blaine’s cock.

Blaine gasps and his fingers tighten in Kurt’s hair. “Holy  _shit_ …”

Kurt mouths at Blaine’s cock, licks, sucks lightly against the shaft, not yet taking it into his mouth but it doesn’t even matter because this is  _amazing_. They haven’t done this yet, at most they’ve explored handjobs and rubbing, but this is different. Wet and hot and Blaine had no idea this feeling was even  _possible_ , but he never wants to go back.

Blaine hears the sound of a zipper.  Kurt shifts, and Blaine doesn’t know why until he looks down between them and  _sees_. “Kurt,” he says, startled, “I can, for you—”

Kurt’s hand is pumping himself, he’s hard and the head of his cock is shiny with smeared pre-come. “No, I just—I need to this time. I’m so turned on, you’re so—“ He doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say, moving instead to take Blaine back into his mouth.

Blaine whimpers, helplessly pushing his hips toward Kurt’s mouth, saying his name in a broken voice. It feels too good, tight and wet and perfect. Kurt sucks at the head, lowers slowly, taking more and more into his mouth, down his throat until there’s nowhere else and Kurt’s hand hovers with nothing left to hold.

“ _Kurt_.”

Kurt moans in reply and moves back up, experimentally bobs his head, his hand returning to hold Blaine in place as he sucks.

Blaine’s hands are fists in Kurt’s hair, and he pulls a little without meaning to. He would be sorry except that Kurt makes these high-pitched sounds every time, and Blaine is craning his head to see, wants to watch Kurt’s mouth around him, Kurt’s hand jerking himself off. Kurt’s mouth moves faster, his thumb sweeping along the sensitive underside of Blaine’s cock and Blaine  _can’t_.

“Kurt— _oh_ , I’m sorry, I—”

It’s as much warning as he can get out. He comes with Kurt’s mouth still around him, with Kurt’s mouth still moving, working him through his orgasm. Blaine doesn’t even know what sounds he’s making, how hard he’s pulling Kurt’s hair, because there is nothing but heat and release.

Kurt swallows and pulls off, taking a breath and then letting out a strangled moan as he stands a little to lean against Blaine. Blaine can feel it hit his thigh, hot stripes of come. He can’t help a moan of his own and tilts Kurt’s head back with a hand still in his hair, the other clutching at Kurt’s shoulder, brackets himself around Kurt and kisses him. Kurt’s hands are on his hips now and Blaine can taste himself on Kurt’s tongue, delicious and dirty.

They fall back onto the bed in a mass of sweaty, slightly sticky limbs, and neither of them can bring themselves to care. Kurt loses his pants and Blaine pulls a blanket over them.  They take their time kissing and touching, exploring with hands and mouths and heated looks. Blaine is certain there isn’t a single soul as beautiful as Kurt, and he tells him so in whispers and in as many ways as he can think of. Kurt tries to stop him with kisses, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment and love.

At first it feels like drowning, warm from the blanket and from Kurt, limbs heavy and head foggy with a mixed desire for sleep and for  _more_. It tapers off little by little, touch by touch, focus sharpening and heat building. He’s hard again and so is Kurt, Blaine can feel him against his thigh. It’s almost surreal, to have this.

Blaine’s fingers tease Kurt’s nipples, Kurt’s knead Blaine’s ass. Kurt’s mouth is a constant sucking pressure along his neck and Blaine doesn’t even want to know what he’s going to look like tomorrow. It’s a distracting thought, so when one of Kurt’s fingers dips down to touch where he has  _definitely_  never been touched before, Blaine can’t help a surprised sort of yelp.

Kurt pulls back, eyes heavy-lidded, but concerned. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I—sorry, that was embarrassing. You can continue. With my butt.”

Kurt grins and it looks almost wolfish. “You’re cute.”

Kurt moves his finger a little, rubs lightly at the opening. It feels good in a way Blaine wasn’t expecting and he unconsciously leans in toward Kurt, tiny whimpers at each movement from his finger.

Kurt is breathing heavy and whispers against his ear, “Do you have lube?”

Blaine nods, rolling on his opposite side and away from Kurt to look in the drawer of his bedside table. He’d bought lube and condoms not too long after they’d gotten together. He didn’t know when they’d use them, but he knew that eventually they would. Everything has been so fervent from the moment they kissed that it feels like a wonder they’ve waited this long.

There is no second guessing, Blaine is ready.

He turns toward Kurt with his hands hidden behind his back. “Pick a hand.”

“Is this a modern version of playing hard to get?” Kurt asks, tapping his right shoulder.

Blaine produces his hand, opening it. “Behind this hand, lube.”

“Do I have to answer a riddle to get what’s behind the other?” Kurt asks, taking the tube and smiling.

“Yes, what’s rubbery and ribbed for her pleasure?”

“ _Her_? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Kurt takes the packet from Blaine, sets it aside and leans in to kiss him, reaching down and giving Blaine’s cock two slow, moan-inducing strokes.

Blaine opens the tube for Kurt, spreading the lube on Kurt’s fingers for him. “Definitely not a girl.”

Kurt looks down to his fingers. It’s a goopy sort of mess, Blaine maybe used too much, but probably better too much than too little. “You’re sure about this?” Kurt asks.

Blaine nods, ignoring the way his heart’s pounding. “How do you want me?”

Kurt’s eyes are dark, they linger and it’s a moment before he answers. “On your elbows and knees, I think.” Blaine acquiesces, and Kurt helps direct him. “Yeah, like— knees drawn under, yeah. Like that.” Kurt moves behind him and Blaine hears him groan. “ _God_ , Blaine, I just want to—”

Blaine bites his lip, hands tightening in his bed sheet, and he lifts his ass just a little higher, presenting himself to Kurt. He just wants so  _badly_. “Please, Kurt.”

There’s a groan and then Blaine feels the cool, wet touch of Kurt’s finger. Kurt teases the rim again, swirls his finger, increasing and decreasing the pressure at random, making Blaine moan and squirm. When he isn't sure he can take anymore, Kurt’s finger slowly pushes inside. It’s hard to judge how far. Blaine can feel it moving, it doesn’t feel  _bad_ , but it doesn’t exactly feel  _good_ , either. It’s a weird sort of pressure, but the idea of it, and god, the friction against that outer edge, _that’s_  turning Blaine on. _That_  feels good, and he wants more, begs for it in little moans.

Kurt stretches him with that one finger for what seems like an impossibly long time.

“Kurt, more…”

“Okay,” Kurt says, and his voice sounds shaky and jesus that’s incredibly hot. Blaine wishes he could see, turns his head to look right as Kurt works another finger inside. It burns just a little, but Kurt looks up at him and the  _look_  in his eyes. There’s nothing else, just this boy he loves, just them.

“You’re so tight, Blaine, I—I’m gonna do another, okay? I read—”

But Blaine is already shaking his head, saying  _yeah, yeah, please_ , and there’s this moment of  _emptiness_  when Kurt is adding more lube, followed by intense pressure of all three fingers entering at once. Blaine breathes and relaxes his body, head lowering a moment. Kurt’s free hand is holding onto his hip, almost bruisingly tight, and it all just feels like  _a lot_.

Kurt’s fingers go deeper and start to slowly thrust, start to move with purpose. Blaine is cursing under his breath and Kurt is moaning low and Blaine wonders if he even realizes. Kurt curls his fingers, or, Blaine isn’t sure, just knows it feels different, and then it feels  _amazing_ , so amazing he cries out softly, surprised by the sudden spike of pleasure.

“Wha—”

“Yeah? Did that feel good?” Kurt’s leaning over his back in an eager sort of way, moving his fingers a little faster, massaging, and Blaine cries out again, claws at his mattress until his hands are fists in the sheet because holy fuck it’s intense and strange and  _good_.

“I love the sounds you’re making, they’re driving me crazy,” Kurt is saying in a husky voice, practically draped over his back, licking and sucking at Blaine’s neck, biting, mouthing his shoulder, moving his fingers over and over the same area and all Blaine can do is moan and try to remember to breathe.

The feeling ignites, flares, and Blaine almost screams, lets out this broken sob and he’s sure he’s come, he doesn’t feel anything but he must have.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Kurt says and his fingers are gone and he flips Blaine. Blaine lets Kurt manhandle him, position him. A pillow under his hips and Kurt’s hands linger on his thighs a moment.

“Did I come?” Blaine asks weakly, mindlessly.

“No, it’s—I don’t know, that was just. Can I? Is it still okay?” Kurt asks, and he has the condom clenched in both hands. He looks wild. Blaine nods.

Kurt lets out a breath like relief and gets himself ready. Blaine watches in anticipation, that edge of nervousness back, but the way Kurt adds a little lube inside the condom and rolls it on, spreads more lube along his length, the precision and preparation for what they’re about to do all feels very erotic to Blaine and there is a low buzz under his skin.

Kurt scoots up between Blaine’s legs, holds onto his thighs, and everything at once seems sharpened. The blue of Kurt’s eyes, the bow of his lips, the touch of his fingers and the pale expanse of his chest, just a light sheen of sweat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Blaine says, and it comes out in this broken, stupid way that’s a little embarrassing, but Kurt smiles, glancing away.

“God, you have  _no idea_  how you look right now, Blaine.”

“ _Kurt_ …”

“I’m afraid to hurt you,” Kurt admits after a moment, hands stroking Blaine’s thighs.

“Remember…remember, I’m a masochist? You said. Maybe I’ll like it,” Blaine says, smiles to show he’s teasing.

Kurt looks like he’s laughing but there isn’t a sound. He touches Blaine’s cock, teases the spot between the base and his balls and Blaine squirms.

“Please, Kurt…”

Kurt nods and leans in, and Blaine feels the head of his cock press up against his entrance. Kurt takes a breath and starts to push in, and oh god,  _oh god_. It’s nothing like Kurt’s fingers had been, not even close. It’s all intense, blunt pressure, and wow, he doesn't feel two seconds away from coming now.

“ _Blaine_.” And this time it’s Kurt’s voice that sounds broken. His face dips down close, and he’s pushing slowly, so slowly.

Blaine closes his eyes, trying to keep the sounds threatening to break free  _down_ , but something hoarse escapes anyway, and Kurt stops moving.

“You okay?”

Blaine takes two deep breaths and nods. “Just keep—keep moving.”

Kurt peppers a few sloppy kisses along his face, shifts, and the drag of Kurt’s cock along his rim sends sparks up his spine, elicits a helpless whimper.

“Jesus, Blaine, you have no  _idea_ —”

Kurt stops, and must be in all the way. Blaine’s hands are shaking, but sure, and bring Kurt’s head down, kissing him, feeling a rush of aching warmth because this is Kurt  _inside_  him. Kurt, the first boy he’s ever loved, who he’s everything with, now.  He wants Kurt so completely, his fingers tighten, body becomes impatient.

“More, Kurt.  _Need_ you,” he begs against Kurt’s mouth, lips still touching.

Kurt makes a sound of affirmation, and slides a hand up Blaine’s thigh, slowly pulling back. The drag of his cock makes Blaine gasp, moan just a little. Kurt starts to thrust, slow, shallow strokes, staring down like he’s trying to work out the best way to do this, eyelids heavy and mouth parted like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

“So tight,” Kurt is whispering, and all Blaine can say is  _please, please_.

Kurt’s thrusts pick up speed, gaining confidence, and all at once that overwhelming feeling is back. Blaine keens, shaking pleas and attempts at coaxing Kurt for  _more_  tumble from his mouth, his fingers hold tight, scrabbling to find purchase on Kurt’s body, hips jerking, wanting. Kurt is sweating, panting, rolling his hips with his eyes on Blaine’s, face flushed and eyes dazed. Blaine can feel his desperation just as much as he can his own.

“Touch yourself,” Kurt says, swiping his tongue over his lower lip.

Blaine groans from the sight of Kurt’s tongue, the thought of touching himself in front of Kurt, and hesitates only a moment before complying. He wraps his hand around his cock, strokes fast, hissing in relief.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Kurt moans. “You’re so hot, Blaine, so hot…”

Kurt re-adjusts, braces himself, and drags Blaine’s hips higher, fucking into him a little faster. The movements are erratic as Kurt finds a new rhythm, but Blaine cries out, forgets to pump his hand because Kurt’s cock is rubbing that spot inside over and over and it’s  _too much_ , he  _can’t_  anymore, jerks frantically and comes with a helpless shout.

Kurt cries out, cut short by something like a growl, and he  _pounds_  into Blaine, stills after several fervent thrusts, fingers clamped hard enough to make Blaine whimper. Kurt’s coming, and Blaine reaches up to touch Kurt’s cheek, Kurt’s eyes flashing open and landing on Blaine’s.

Blaine smiles and starts to say something, but Kurt cuts him off with a kiss, tender and drawn out. Blaine hums appreciatively, smooths Kurt’s hair, cradles his face, lets him go only when he shifts away to pull out.

Kurt disposes of the condom, wipes up some of the mess with some tissues, and cuddles right up to Blaine, curling around his body. Blaine burrows into his warmth, kissing lazily at the underside of his jaw, the both of them still getting their breathing back to normal.

“Sorry if I was too rough, uh—”

“No, no, I—I might be sore or whatever later—I liked it,” Blaine tries to explain, raising his face so he can see Kurt. Kurt is smiling, a sated, sleepy look on his face.

“I know it may sound cliché, but that was really amazing.”

Blaine lets out a quiet laugh. “Would it be too cliché of me, then, to tell you I love you?”

Kurt smiles softly, dragging Blaine close for a kiss. “Then I’ll finish this cliché-off. I love you, too.”

\----

_They sleep for forty days and forty nights, until they’re the last boys on Earth._

Or at least, that’s what Blaine dreams.  It feels true in a way. The world is quiet and still and Blaine has never been so sluggishly tired, so boneless and content to stay cocooned in blankets and Kurt’s arms.

They wake sometime the next afternoon and kiss until morning breath is only a memory. They have sex again, just lube and their hands touching each other, kissing and stroking and watching each other’s faces, marveling at the flush they bring to each other’s cheeks, the swollen state of their lips. Kurt is more beautiful than anyone Blaine’s imagination could ever conjure up.

Blaine comes with Kurt’s name rolling off his tongue. Kurt’s eyebrows draw up, his own orgasm given over to Blaine. Blaine takes it, worshipfully. He kisses Kurt, both of them still worked up, heavy breathing, quiet moans, and whispers to him that he’s perfect.

Perfect, perfect.

\----

Kurt says he’ll ask his dad if Blaine can stay over, but Blaine doesn’t want to push it, says it’s okay. Before Kurt leaves, he sings to Blaine, “ _Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn’t have to wait so long?”_  They’re standing on Blaine’s porch with snow falling around them, cheeks rosy, hands cold and breath showing in white puffs. Blaine smiles and holds Kurt’s hands between his, joins in on the last verse, “ _Goodnight, my baby, sleep tight, my baby…_ ”

Blaine watches Kurt drive away, and doesn’t go inside until his fingers start to feel numb.

He has a hard time falling asleep in bed alone that night.

\----

School is a reality check, but it doesn’t feel as harsh as it once did.

Blaine’s hand wants to reach for Kurt’s in the hallway, and though things shifted over the weekend, as far as Blaine knows, Kurt still isn’t ready to come out. Blaine well knows it isn’t his place, or anyone else’s, to make that decision for him. With two minutes to homeroom, now isn’t the time for a discussion, so Blaine contents himself with walking alongside Kurt.

They share secret smiles all day, texts that don’t say much but still manage to make Blaine grin. At lunch they steal away to the library, taking advantage of the fact that it is nearly deserted, and make out in the religious section in the back. Kurt is an atheist and Blaine knows he takes some smug satisfaction in their choice of location. Before they leave, Blaine sends a mental prayer up, asking forgiveness but he is so in love.

Artie accuses Blaine of taking roofies and Rachel gives him a full-out lecture on drug use. Someone mentions Vitamin D, whatever that means, but Blaine assures them he hasn’t taken anything; he’s just happy.

Blaine had no idea a person could be this happy.

The final bell rings, and Kurt is waiting for him as his locker.

Blaine greets him with a wide smile. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“Well, I thought I was driving a certain someone over to my house because it will be empty until around five thirty, when my father gets home.”

Kurt’s grin is positively predatory, and Blaine wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss it like mad. He stops himself at the last moment, smile disappearing when he remembers Rachel’s announcement during homeroom.

“Crap, I can’t. Glee got moved from tomorrow to today because of some football thing. It shouldn’t take too long, though, and I can drive over when it’s done?” Blaine asks, hopeful and apologetic all at once.

Kurt doesn’t look annoyed, as Blaine expected, just thoughtful. “Can I come with you?”

Blaine’s mouth falls open. “To  _glee club_?”

“You’ve always been so adamant about me joining, so I’ve been giving it some thought…”

"Seriously?"

Kurt nods, a bashful smile on his face. Blaine is nothing short of astonished.

“You know I don’t want you to for me, right? I mean, sure, it’d be great to spend more time with you, but I want you to because I think  _you_  would like it,” Blaine says, stepping closer.

Kurt's smile gains confidence. "I know."

Blaine touches his hand, because he  _has_  to.

“Let’s go.”

\----

The choir room is at the end of the hallway past the gym. This is the hallway they danced in not two days ago. Blaine points this out, and Kurt says he knows, his feet are still recovering from Blaine clomping all over them. Blaine rolls his eyes, about to snark back, when he feels the collar of his shirt pull back sharply and suddenly against his windpipe. He gasps and flails, but it’s too fast and he’s yanked backwards, unbalanced, and slams into the wall.

Blaine registers pain, Kurt shouting, but then there's nothing but the angry face in front of his.

“You’re asking for it now,” Karofsky growls. He turns to where Kurt is trying to pull his arm away to free Blaine. “What the hell happened to you, Hummel?” Karofsky’s attention returns to Blaine. “You think you can turn  _everybody_  into a fag?”

“Wha—”

Karofsky shoves Blaine into the wall again before he can even form an answer. “Huh!?”

“Get  _off_  him!” Kurt screams.  It’s so loud Blaine looks away from Karofsky, missing Karofsky’s fist until it connects with his  _face_.

There’s an _explosion_  of pain, not in one place, not just his nose or his jaw, it’s his entire _head_ , and Blaine grasps at Karofsky to fend him off, but crumples to the floor. Blaine cannot  _see_  at the moment, can only hear Kurt's, “ _Don’t touch him_!”

When things have stopped spinning enough and the world around him makes a little more sense, Blaine hears it again, “Don’t touch him— _get the fuck away from him!_ ” Kurt has gotten between Blaine and Karofsky, hands in fists and poised to lunge.

“He’s  _mine_.”

Blaine stares in shock, too frozen to move, to help. He tastes the tangy salt of blood in his mouth and ignores it, because Kurt just said. He just said…

“You’re  _sick_ ,” Karofsky says, voice pitched low in morbid wonder.

“I’m not the sick one and you know it,” Kurt spits, words rushed from how heavy Kurt is breathing, how angry he is. “And if you ever get near him again you’re  _done_ , Karofsky. He’s mine and I mean it.”

“Yeah, who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me,” comes a voice, at first unrecognizable to Blaine’s ears. His face whips to the left, where Rachel is walking out the choir room door. Karofsky’s face lifts at first, starts to smile, but quickly diminishes.

“We are.”

The entirety of New Directions file into the hallway, standing between Blaine and Karofsky. Blaine can’t see Karofsky’s face, but it doesn’t matter, because Kurt’s attention is on him now. Blaine realizes he still hasn’t gotten up, because Kurt is crouching down by him, mouth tight and eyes worried as they check every inch of his face.

“—Puck is  _not_  gonna be happy, you know Kurt’s his boy,” Santana is saying, but Blaine loses track again when Kurt’s fingers touch cool against his forehead and jaw.

“You didn’t have to say that,” Blaine says, voice hushed, feeling his face heat up at the look in Kurt’s eyes.

“I may not be ready to march with a rainbow flag, but,” Kurt shrugs a little, self-conscious, “I’m getting there. I’m proud of who I am, and I’m proud to be your boyfriend.”

Blaine smiles so hard he winces. “…Ow.”

Kurt cringes in sympathy. “If he broke your nose I will break his  _dick_.”

Blaine huffs out a surprised laugh and it  _hurts_. “Oh god, don’t do that—”

“What’s going on here?”

Blaine and Kurt both look up to find Mr. Schuester paused at the end of the hallway, coffee mug in hand, taking in the scene with an alarmed expression on his face.

\----

With a dozen witnesses, a teacher on the scene mere moments after the assault occurred, Blaine’s quite visible injury coupled with Karofsky’s prior offense, and the school’s no tolerance physical violence policy - Karofsky’s expulsion is almost a sure thing.

Everyone insists on going to Figgins’ office, Rachel the loudest of all of them. She storms in ahead of Schuester, threatening to call her fathers, members of the civil rights union, if the school doesn’t do anything about Karofsky.

Everything gets explained, documented. The nurse is brought down to check Blaine for serious injury. He is fine. He is better than fine, really, because Kurt doesn’t leave his side once. Blaine keeps looking at him in wonder. Kurt is risking everything for him.

Mr. Schuester announces that glee club is cancelled for the day, and Blaine nearly leaps from his seat in protest.

“No, Mr. Schuester. You don’t have to do that on account of me.”

“Blaine, I don’t think—”

“Really, Mr. Schue. It would…give me something nice to focus on,” he tries, glancing at Kurt.

Kurt was about to maybe join glee club, and Blaine wants it more than he can say. He doesn’t want to wait another two days. He doesn’t want to take the chance that Kurt will change his mind. Kurt is his boyfriend and now everyone knows. Now Kurt can do anything he wants.

"And we have a new recruit."

\----

As if the confrontation with Karofsky wasn't enough to make Blaine's friends wonder, Kurt takes his hand on the way to the choir room. The walk back is quiet, but their curious looks say enough. Blaine doesn't feel like explaining just yet and is relieved no one asks.

Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand to take his seat. He sits in the first row, ice bag clutched to his jaw, eyes unmoving from where Kurt stops, front and center. Mr. Schuester speaks quietly with Kurt for a few minutes as everyone settles into their seats, the quiet chatter making it so Blaine can't hear what Kurt and Mr. Schuester are saying.

Mr. Schuester steps to the side, leaving Kurt standing ram-rod straight in place, gaze moving from person to person, everyone looking back at him. There is an undercurrent of trepidation, but through it, Kurt's head is held high. Blaine can hardly believe it, the courage it has to take to stand, utterly vulnerable, in front of a group of people who you've made hate you for years. Kurt is willingly exposing two of his deepest secrets to a room where the majority despises him; his sexuality and his voice.

Blaine is so moved by Kurt's bravery.

"Hi. I'm Kurt Hummel," he says when everyone is settled and silent. No one says a thing. Kurt's eyes flit along their faces. Blaine knows that despite Kurt being his boyfriend, they'll be hard to win over.

"I know I've been awful to most of you. You probably don't want me here, and I understand. I'm sorry for the things I've done and said, and I hope I can make it up to you before the school year is over.

"Someone important to me wanted me to join, so you can blame him for this." Kurt is smiling at him, and Blaine’s nervousness ebbs away.

"I want to dedicate this song to him. To Blaine."

The piano begins to play, a slow and familiar melody, and Blaine’s smile deepens. Kurt closes his eyes a moment, takes a deep breath, and begins to sing. His eyes meet Blaine's upon reopening, and Blaine's heart swells with love and pride. He knows it must show on his face from the way Kurt is looking back at him.

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly_ _. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…_ "


End file.
